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papaya-twinks · 3 months ago

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ok so what abt a lando one where there’s an age gap and he’s always been obsessed with her and like stalkers her, does research on the guys she brings home and goes out with basically totally dark stalker vibes. But the thing is she knows she has a stalker but no idea who it is bc whenever he confronts her he is wearing his racing helmet, and they always do even more each time they meet, liek first time they met he just caressed her but then like the 3rd time fingers her and 4th fucks her. THEN SOMEWEAR IN IT PLSSS. Lando has a sex tape of them and jerks off to it and thinks ‘fuck I can’t do this anymore’ kidnaps her and now she’s kinda like his toy but sugar daddy vibes bc he treats her well. And this is all consensual bc the reader wants an adventure as her ex bf was so vanilla ( which lando knows allll abt and explains in detail to her what she used to do with him) THATS ALOT IM SRRY U DONT HAVE TO DO IT

Warnings: Five year age gap (sorry, large age gaps make me squeamish), stalker, dark fic, 18+ kidnapping, sex, smut, 18+, consensual, sex tape, fingering, abusive partner (not Lando), sugar daddy, swearing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m adding some biker!lando into this coz his F1 helmet is just cutsies but a black biker one? dark dark shit right there.

Lando had met you at an F1 race, where you’d been in the garage. Something about how darn innocent you looked with your pretty little dress, all young and…wow. And with the help of Oscar (who simply thought his teammate just had an interest in some girl), he found out about you.

Y/N Y/L/N. You were 19 years old, your favourite colour was pink, you were cute and innocent and sweet, and you loved bows and ribbons. How adorable. And so it began, Lando followed you on a burner account, and watched all your stories, pinpointing your exact location to be in Monaco.

Oh how perfect, you were in the same country as him and, conveniently, he had the whole summer break to play around with the information.

y/n

caption: spending this day alone but with a great cafe to make up for it :)

friend3: oooo, have fun 💗💗💗

-> y/n: will do, thank you x

friend2: looking chic, y/n!

friend1: enjoy yourself and try the chocolate cake 👀

user1: café can’t be as gorgeous as you are 😉

-> y/n: oh, thank you?

You had just brushed off whoever ‘user1’ was, not really paying much mind to unusual flirty message, and continued with your day at the cafe. However, you couldn’t shake the slightly unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

You’d seen this happen in movies, and you couldn’t deny that the slight tingle of adrenaline coursing through your body wasn’t enjoyable. And so you looked behind you, from your cake and your phone, your eyes locking with someone else’s.

Well, more you found yourself staring back at a helmet. A plain, slick black helmet, the person wearing it adorned in a leather black jacket and light blue jeans. You couldn’t see any features to help show you who it was, but it was kind of…interesting.

Did you confront the person? No, you’d seem desperate or stupid. So you went back to your food, and never once did it cross your mind that perhaps, user1 was your stalker. But you didn’t see the stalker anymore. And you were a little disappointed they’d moved on so quickly, but you too moved on, going on your dates, looking for love, as girls your age did.

“Jason? What the fuck?” Lando said, eyeing the new name at the bottom of your followers. He’d skimmed through them, making a note of each and every person on your Instagram list, but seeing a guy? He couldn’t deny the feeling of annoyance in his stomach.

And thankfully, he’d made note of the guy’s instagram enough to see where the date would take place. Foolish, foolish move. And once again, you were sitting at a chair opposite this man, Jason, when your eyes fell on the same, sleek black helmet once more. Holy shit. And quicker than it had come, it was gone. For fucks’ sake.

*1 month later*

You and Jason were dating now, and to say he was toxic was an understatement. “Jason, I’m just gonna go out with my friends,” you said, picking up your purse as he scowled from the sofa, still in his sleeping clothes. “Why? So you can see some guy under the guise of friends? Likely,” Jason scoffed.

He was frustrating. “I’m not seeing another guy, I’m going with my friends,” you said, repeating your words as he groaned. “For fucks’ sake, Y/N, no means no!” he yelled, his words making you flinch as you sighed and dropped your purse back down.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be a brat, fucking go!” Jason seethed, pushing you to the door. Well, at least you’d get to go. The meet up with your friends ended a few minutes later, and just as you were leaving..,the helmet. This time, you would confront him. Or her.

“Uh, hi,” you said, walking slowly towards the helmet-man. He was definitely muscular. You were standing in the middle of an alleyway, the darkness flooding round you as the helmet stared down at you from his spot. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you said, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He didn’t shake it.

You watched as he placed a hand in your shoulder, still not having said anything, and interlocked your other hand in his. He pushed a bit of paper into your hand, your eyes on the words. A phone number. Interesting. As soon as you looked back up, he was gone.

unknown user

y/n: hello

user: Hello.

y/n: who is this?

user: you don’t need to know.

user: come to the boulevard tomorrow at 9pm. leave jason behind. tell him your seeing a friend.

Holy shit x2. The air of mystique around whoever this was…was somewhat unsettling but at the same time, it was kinda a turn on. And wait, how did he know who Jason was? Oh, he’d done his research. Nice one.

And so you did what he said, managing to wriggle out of Jason’s possessive gaze, and you found yourself, waiting where this stalker had said. And there he was, in the same jacket and the same helmet, looking back at you. And perfectly on time, as well. Either he was desperate or…well, you didn’t know.

It was dark all round you, no one around and the streets unlit in this area. You watched as he reached out a gloved hand, taking your hand in his and pulling you between the trees, the mask of the night shielding you. He had strong hands.

You didn’t truly care what he’d do next, as he sat you down, the dry earth coating the back of your dress as he pushed it up, your thighs visibly shaking. A soft gasp left your lips as he trailed his hand over your core. You hadn’t worn panties. Good.

It was almost like he was complimenting you as he gave you a small smack on your thigh, before he removed his glove, dipping his finger between your folds as you moaned, eyes wide. “Shit…” you trailed off, your eyes wide as he added another, your knot building up. Fucking weeks of faked orgasms, and this one felt real.

He didn’t say anything, simply moving his hand faster, the tan skin of his fingers curling as he rubbed at your clit with his thumb. Who was this fucking angel? A loud moan left your lips as your orgasm flooded over you, his hand moving from between your legs, the remnants of your pleasure on his hand as he wiped it down his jacket, watching you for a second, before he left.

Part 1 of his plan: complete.

And the next day, you received yet another message from the same user, your eyes lighting up. It was an address.

user: [address], 10pm. no panties either.

And you arrived at the surprisingly grand hotel, showing the receptionist the room number and she gestured the way. You paused outside the door, thoughts of everything flashing through your head. Who was this man? Was he safe? Was he dangerous? Fuck it, you just needed another orgasm.

As you walked in, you failed to notice the little camera set up on the desk behind a bottle of lotion, your eyes on the man standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom. You didn’t say anything, neither did he, as he walked to you, lifting your dress once more and laying you down on the bed.

With one hand, he dipped his fingers into your core, the other hand undoing his belt as he dropped his trousers, taking your hand and wrapping it round the base of his (surprisingly large) cock. You heard the small sound of a groan, not enough to identify who it was, but you pumped his slowly, his own hand toying with your core.

Still, he’d didn’t remove his helmet. You gasped as he pressed his cock against you, one hand pressing down on your throat gently, the restriction of your airways adding to the pleasure, as his other hand pressed your stomach down to stop you from arching. You whined as he tugged your jaw forwards, forcing you to look at the small bump in your stomach.

Holy shit x3.

You gasped as he started moved, your lips parting as he moved his head down, lifting the visor and pressing immediately to your neck, so you couldn’t see anything but his lips as he licked at the supple, sweet skin of your collarbone. His hips picked up pace as you moaned, his fangs nipping at your skin as he peppered kisses to your neck.

You could feel the pleasure build up in both of you as he held you down, his hand moving from your neck to massage you clit in soft, slow circles, his other hand kneading the skin of your breasts. “Shit,” you muttered as he sped up, the knot in your stomach building faster and faster as you suppressed your moans, your eyes rolling.

He pulled out before he came, spilling the liquid onto your thighs as he bit down once onto your neck, sucking the hickey under your coat and out of sight, before fixing you up. And then he pushed you out the room. Oh god.

“What the fuck?!” Jason snapped, stepping into the shower with you. “Where did you get a hickey from?” he asked, your eyes wide. You’d totally forgotten about it. “You gave it to me last time we fucked,” you said coolly, trying to play it off. “Oh…right,” Jason muttered. Wow, he was stupid.

“Fuck,” Lando gasped, his eyes rolling as he tried to keep his attention on the video of the night before, his hand desperately trying to recreate the sensation of your tight cunt, how good it had felt having your warmth clenching round him. “For fucks’ sake,” Lando muttered staring down at the menial drops of cum coating his hand.

And there was only one way he could have you all of himself. Kidnapping. But, how? You were walking down the boulevard once more, trying not to stare at the spot where you’d been fingered by the mystery man, clutching your bag as you walked down to a bakery, where you wanted to pick up your cakes.

And then, a hand on your mouth, followed by a cloth, and out you went.

……….…………………………

Your lashes fluttered open as a piercing yellow light hung over you, your eyes returning to usual as you looked round the room. You had an itch under your nose, and you reached your hand up, only to find your wrists tied together and to a radiator. What the fuck?!

And then you saw it, the pieces falling into place. A laptop placed perfectly so you could see it, with the video of the mystery man fucking you playing on. The helmet placed onto the side cabinet. A phone with ‘user1’ and the list of all your images he’d saved. What was this?

“Hello sweetheart,” a voice said, the second word dripping with almost condescending sarcasm as you looked up, your eyes locking on a pair of greenish-blue ones. He was the stalker? He was hot, though. “What are you doing, who are you?” you writhed against the ties as he scoffed.

“Fight all you want, then,” he shrugged, “I know you want this,”. You shook your head at his words, making him roll his eyes, before he bent down, untying the tie on your wrists and kneeling to your height. “Don’t wanna be here, is that what you want me to believe?” he smirked. “Then go on,” he gestured to the bedroom door.

“Run, then,”.

But you didn’t. You didn’t run. Though you knew you should, that this wasn’t right, but you didn’t move. “Exactly,” he leaned down to whisper into your ear, running his tongue over the mark he’d left, a shiver rushing up your spine. “Get on the bed, then,” he said with a little sinister smile, but you obeyed.

“On your back, lift your dress,” the man said, directing you with a firm voice as you did what he said, your back against the mattress, your hands tugging the material of your dress upwards. “Good,” he eyed your body, “think a little introduction is in need,”.

“I’m Lando,” he said, his lips brushing your ear as he removed his jeans, “you’re Y/N. I know that,” he said, pumping himself a few times before aligning with your entrance as you gasped. “I know how Jason was a dick,” he continued, “I watched you fake those orgasms,” Lando mused, “and how that cunt of a ‘boyfriend’ never once gifted his perfect little girl anything,”.

You whimpered as he took your chin in his fingers, pressing his lips to your jaw, before sliding into you, his other hand taking a little box from behind you, sliding the ring onto your index finger as he rocked his hips. “Oh, god,” you gasped as he sped up, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“I watched how that cunt couldn’t even make you cum, Y/N,” Lando smirked, “such a pretty girl and he couldn’t even make you cum,”. You whined at his words, your body bouncing a little as the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his as he slammed into you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

“Cum for me,” he said, his teeth bared against your neck as you gasped, your whimpers filling his ears as he carried on. Oh what he fun he’d have with you.

A/N - I love this.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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riki-riks-chick · 5 months ago

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HIII im sorry forr requesting this again i just love how u write, can u make another non affectionate niki? where his affectionate gf stops being clingy bc niki is annoyed with it yet he got jealous when he saw his gf pat or hug someone

Cling To Me ┃N.RK

non-affectionate!riki x affectionate!reader

riki gets upset bc yn isn't being clingy like usual and she's giving the other guys attention instead.

cw: fluff! jealous riki, kisses, hugs, riki secretly likes yn's clinginess.

wdct: 858

don't be srry for requesting again bc I'm lowkey obsessed w non-affectionate riks too. the first one was originally js for me but now im obsessed.

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Today you had plans with Riki and his friends, so you got up early, wanting to shower before he got up so you could make sure he had breakfast. He often skips so sometimes you have to semi-force him.

You took a quick shower, wearing some sweats and a loose tank top, and setting your outfit out to put on once you finished getting ready.

You made breakfast, a simple meal consisting of some fluffy pancakes, and some fruit. You also poured two glasses of orange juice, setting the table before heading back to the bed room to wake Riki.

"Riki.. Wake up.." You shake his arm, pushing his hair out of his face as he groaned. "Hm?..." His eyes flutter open as he gazes at you. You chuckle. "Get up... I made breakfast."

He sits up, stretching before getting out of bed and following you to the kitchen.

He mumbles a sleepy thank you before eating, albeit slowly.

"After you're done eating we can leave once we're both ready." You mumble as he nods. "Okay.." There's little conversation as you both finish eating, and Riki offers to do the dishes while you finish getting ready.

Once your hair and makeup is done, you put your planned outfit on which consisted of a pretty top Riki had bought for you and some jeans.

After finishing the dishes, Riki took a shower, spending minimal time getting ready, and once he finished, you both left.

The car ride to the arcade was short, and Riki had tried holding your hand and placing his hand on your thigh through out, but you rejected both actions by ignoring him.

He was confused because of how unlikely that was of you, but he tried to ignore it, not wanting to read too much into it.

When you finally got to the arcade, Riki opened your door for you, and you smiled, giving him a kiss to his cheek as a thank you.

The two of you walked in, immediately spotting Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung who were standing near the prize counter.

"Hey, guys." Jungwon greets as you and Riki walk over. He gives you a hug which you gladly return, making Riki pout. He gets even more upset when Sunghoon and Heeseung hug you too.

Now that he's thinking, you didn't give him a kiss or a hug when you woke him up, which is highly unlike you. And he can't tell if you're mad at him or not because you still made breakfast and you gave him a kiss on the cheek just a few minutes ago. It's all really confusing.

Once the rest of the guys get to the arcade, you all start playing games, and for the most part, you stick to Jay. And it's no surprise to Riki because you and Jay get along well and you call him your dad as a joke since he treats you like a kid and spoils you the same way he spoils everyone else.

But it's clear something is wrong when you guys leave the arcade, heading to a restaurant that you all wanted to eat at, and you don't sit next to Riki.

Not wanting to argue or make a scene, he decides to let it go, but it kills him everytime he glances around the table and he sees you giggling with Sunghoon and Sunoo. For some reason it irks him that he's not the one with your attention.

He finds himself wondering if you ever feel like this, and if it's one of the reasons you're so keen on affection, but he still can't wrap his mind around your reason for avoiding him today.

This bothers him until you get home, and you're both quiet as you change, getting comfy for the night. You're taking off your makeup and doing your skincare, but Riki is already on the bed, a pout set on his lips.

He waits until you finally climb onto the bed to glance at you. "Are you mad at me?..." He asks as you look over at him, confusion settling on to your face.

"No, why?.." You question as he sighs. "You've been ignoring me all day.. And you haven't hugged or kissed me at all, even when you woke me up this morning."

You chuckle at his words. "I didn't think you would care.. Usually you call me clingy when I'm all over you throughout the day." You mumble as he sighs. "That doesn't mean I don't like it... I was suffering all day because I thought you were upset with me. I went all day without a single hug or kiss from you."

You laugh at how pouty and adorable he is, moving to hug him, before pulling back to pepper kisses all over his face and then his lips.

He smiles, deepening the kiss, his large palm cupping your jaw. He eventually pulls away with a smile. "Please don't ignore me again.. I want you to cling to me.."

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#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft headcanons #enhypen soft hours #niki soft thoughts #niki soft hours #enhypen nishimura riki #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki #enha niki #niki enhypen #enhypen fluff #niki fluff #riki fluff

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ezgurple · 4 months ago

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Just asking are your notifications okay? °-°"

hellooooo i think?? maybe. i get a lot of notifications on here most of the time im srryy if i miss something. also just moved recently. goin throooozz kinda alot rn. have no time to finish my comics and when i do im just tireddd lol -_- sigh. ill try to go through every tag soon! srry guys hhehhh

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tastesousweet · 2 months ago

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⭒ the other woman

christopher sturniolo x poc!reader

summary: an angsty story of regret and selfishness told through different moments in time

warnings: alternate universe (takes place in the early 2000s bcs i’m obsessed), angst, implied sex, cigarettes, cheating (with, not on y/n)

a/n: hiiii srry for ghosting u guys again :/ i finally have motivation to write again!!! send in blurb or one shot ideas pls. unfortunately im putting tgwtt on hold for right now bc i feel writing that series takes so much out of me and i end up not enjoying anything i write. i hope u understand & im sorry to those who enjoy it! anyways i hope this is well received since it’s a bit different than my other works — lowkey tuned into my inner sally rooney bc her angst HITS . luv u baiiii

★ march 2004

there’s a vile and shameful look to you that you’re not so sure you’ve hidden well enough.

your stomach feels overweight and heavy with an extreme amount of pain bubbling and stabbing your insides whenever they decide to pop.

you clutch at the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at your figure and aching eyes (you added some dark eyeliner into your routine hoping to distract from your disdainful mood but you’re starting to think you may have drawn more attention with the dramatic look).

you suck your stained bottom lip into your mouth out of comfort or maybe a need for something to hold as you move to dig for the pack of slightly crumpled cigarettes in your small, wine-red purse.

the door handle begins to rattle unnervingly just as you spark the slim stick to life.

you comically still yourself in your exact position (bent over odd and cupping your hand around the cig as if there was any sudden wind to blow out your flame in your friend's classy bathroom).

"y/n? you in here?!"

your eyes widen first, before they eventually roll. you wave your hands around to cut through the plumes of clogged smoke in the quaint room.

“y/n!”

“someone’s in here!” you reply, taking another puff of smoke and adjusting your hair a bit in the mirror.

“you gonna open up for me?”

“ummm,” you sputter through the cigarette held in your mouth as you adjust your strapless dress with both hands in the mirror.

“y/n.”

you let out a soft groan and quickly smash the cigarette a few times against the french vanilla ceramic sink bowl, throwing what's left of it in the trash. you practically shove yourself against the tiny wall space to the side of the door as you inch it open enough for the two of you to gain a full view of each other.

you smile, “chris.”

★ december 2003

they say the holidays are worst when spent alone.

and despite having three siblings and parents who’d want nothing more than to spend their christmas eve with their son, chris has always preferred to spend the holidays with a beautiful girl — in hopes that she’d gift him the intoxicating feeling of her thighs tightly trapping his face by the end of the night.

so it’s shocking that he’s at your door step, dressed in a suave, ribbed white long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and somehow caught without one of his usual hats slouched on top of his head of fawn hair.

and it’s real fucking odd that you answer the door wearing a dress that fits you extremely well, paired with a cardigan to keep some modesty.

it’s so very weird given that chris has his girlfriend of over a year texting him another apology for abandoning their plans together to visit her family in wisconsin as you both share an intimate hug on your porch.

you try not to think it’s so unnatural for you and chris to go out for dinner, despite the fact that everyone in your small town knows he has a girlfriend who’s notably quite the opposite of you.

thank goodness chris keeps some casualty — leaving you to open your own door when climbing into his beloved truck.

★ february 2004

“okay, um, this is something you can eat and there’s, like, a million types- you like granny smith!”

“oo, apples!”

chris nods excitedly and flips to the next card, “it’s my favorite meal of the day.”

“breakfast!”

“yes, you’re perfect. alright this is casper the friendly-”

“ghost!”

“amazing! ‘kay, i’m always complaining that mine isn’t stiff enough.”

“your dick?” josh jokes.

“fuck off, josh! i’m more than capable…” chris laughs.

“gross! chris?!”

“what?! don’t make it a biggie. now hurry ‘n gimme that answer baby, please?”

“well i’m guessing it’s your mattress?!”

“you have 7 seconds!” nick says while intensely staring at the tiny hourglass.

chris gives an encouraging hand motion for her to continue on that path.

“ummm… your bed?!”

“yes! that’s what i’m talking about!” chris shoots up from his position, on the ground in front of the coffee table, and immediately picks liv up from the couch in celebration.

the group let out plenty of laughs and giggles at the fear in her eyes as she’s lifted up and down excitedly.

cassie yells out, “aw yay mom and dad!” when chris sets her down and kisses her lips.

you try to control your face. your eyes flicker over and see them smiling with their faces so close together. and it drives you a little mad that whatever chris whispered to make her burst into laughter can’t be heard from your spot across the couch, especially not when there are so many conversations going on at once.

it’s just a game. you have no right to be jealous. it’s fucking taboo.

you clear your throat and uncross your legs as you begin to leave from the leather couch, “matt and josh, you can go before me- i’m just gonna grab some water.”

★ march 2004

“smoking cigs again?” chris asks as he steps into the bathroom.

“no,” you lie, resting your hip against the edge of the counter.

he knows you’re lying but doesn’t bother to pressure the truth out of you, he’s not your father. or your boyfriend at that.

“are you doing okay?” he pauses and waits for you to acknowledge him.

you don’t.

he clears his throat, “you look beautiful in this,” he tugs your dress down showing off the cleavage you’d just got done hiding.

“‘m all good,” you answer his initial question while exaggerating a smile.

chris mindlessly nods his head and somehow gets even closer to you, to the point where you have to tilt your head just the slightest bit to make eye contact.

“can i kiss you?” he asks with a genuine glimmer of generosity in his eyes and tone; as if he wanted you to want it more than he wants it himself.

you’re silent. he holds your neck gently and raises his other hand to drag your large bottom lip downward, cooing a tease, “hmmm..?”

you whine a little to yourself — this can’t happen again.

“yes?” chris mocks a little, giving a squeeze to your neck, “say it.”

your eyes droop and suddenly the ache of pain and guilt melts down to a slush of excitement and warmth both inside and evidently outside, if the stickiness of your lace underwear says anything. you nod your head.

chris is so obsessed with your mouth, his thumb doesn't move from your bottom lip as you peek your tongue out to wet it, "yes, please." your words echo off of his lips that now practically hover yours.

even though you've used your manners you manage to deliver it as a command. and it doesn't help that you paired the sentence with your hands running up the hot skin underneath his dark shirt. his mouth hangs slightly ajar as his head nods softly once more and his eyes flicker over your pretty face.

you wait for his response before your eyes lock onto his and you pout, "i thought you wanted to kiss me, chris?"

★ december 2003

“that’s hot,” chris mumbles as he kicks his legs over eachother and stretches out on the longest part of your L - shaped, funky-green couch.

“what is?” you ask as you return to the living room, popcorn cradled in an oversized bowl against your waist.

“pamala anderson,” chris jokingly moans out, biting his bottom lip and covering his lower half with one of your fuzzy throw pillows.

“gross, you perv!” you throw a handful of popcorn at his face — that’s stretched into an adorable smile — and take a seat next to him.

“baywatch reruns are all that nbc play anymore,” you squint with a sigh, taking a swig of the cool bottle of beer chris requested before handing it to him.

“they lost the best thing to ever happen to ‘em, i’d milk that shit too.” he then takes a sip, smirking when a desperate pamala anderson begins to run in slow motion on your fuzzy box television.

“what would liv think of you drooling over some baywatch tits?”

“what would liv think of me replacing her with you for my christmas eve dinner?”

you can’t help but think that ‘replacing’ is possibly the meanest word he could have used.

he smiles and gives a soft laugh when your face doesn’t respond, “joking- don’t spaz on me now…” he rolls his eyes from you back to the screen in front of you.

you swallow and adjust your legs to sit underneath you, trying to get comfortable while remaining in your small red dress.

★ march 2004

“never again,” you remind chris and yourself as you step into your once discarded underwear.

chris nods his head a few times, replying when he finally catches his breath, “right.”

“okay,” you slip your dress back on and chris redresses himself away from you.

chris slowly comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder once and hugging you gently. you want to cry — because in any other circumstance you’d embrace this feeling. but you can’t help but feel dirty.

he whispers with his head buried in the side of your crowded neck, “you know your my best friend, right? i love you.”

and you can’t help the shivers and sobs that decide to escape from your sad, used body.

“shhhh,” he apologizes, “i’m sorry.”

★ december 2003

chris imagined having sex with you plenty of times before — figuring most guys have thought of it with all of their girl friends, at least his friends made it seem true.

though his imagination could never ever live up to your whines and the way your body effortlessly takes him as you bounce yourself on top of him.

you both knew this was a bad idea, it was bad before you ended up back at your place after dinner. chris is an admittedly horny drunk and you’re no better so sharing a few beers while sitting so close to each other was bound to backfire.

only in the morning would some ounce of guilt and regret wash over him, when he’d listen to the cheerful voicemail his unknowing girlfriend left him while he was busy with his fingers in your mouth.

★ november 2004

chris hasn’t spoken to you since you came clean to liv about your disloyalty, six months ago.

he yelled and cried at your doorstep. he told you that you ruined his entire life, that he never wants to see you again.

you convince yourself you never want to see him again, but you tend to miss him in the loneliest times. when you’re sat awake in your dark bedroom.

you still miss his voice and his face.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #angst #sturniolos #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut

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m4y4wasnthere · 4 months ago

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dallas winston dating hcs!

warnings: a bit suggestive; almost sa? encounter; drinking/smoking mention

a/n: this is my first time doing this lolz, im so srry if its bad!! 🤞🤞

took a long time for him to open up to you, especially after his trust being broken by sylvia

treated you like every other girl; dirty pick up lines, teasing; until he realized you were different and you guys got way closer

first time he opened up was about why he moved from New York to Tulsa. needed to escape from from the emptiness of his own household.

You cried as he told the story, which made him realize how much you actually cared for him. how much he hated to see you cry.

“dal, i’m so sorry. i had no clue you went through- just- all of that.” you wiped your face for the 5th time in 1 hour. your eyes were glazed with gloss as you made eye contact with him.

he looked at you, his heart sinking at how you looked. red eyes, tear-streamed face. he hated seeing you all torn up, it made him stop his pacing on your carpet floors. shes crying, not because of me..but because of what I went through. she cares. he would never cry infront of you, but this time his eyes started to ear up too.

he sat down on the bed next to you, and slowly pulled you in for a hug. you hugged him tight, whispering sweet nothings.

“dal im so sorry”...”you didnt deserve any of that”… “you’re amazing for getting through all of that.”

silence filled the room after a shortwhile, interrupted sometimes by your short sniffs.

his arm was caressing your side, and you felt his breath hitch.

“i-… i love you.” he whispered, his heartbeat quickening with each second of silence passing.

you tilted your head up to his and stared into his beautiful eyes. he struggled keeping his eyes against yours, awaiting your response. he was ready to get up and run, expecting a rejection.

“I love you too Dallas” your voice was clear, contrasting your sweaty palms and your tear stricken face.

Both of you stared into each other eyes in comfortable silence.

he’s never said i love you again after that, he does show it, most he would do is say “you too”

he’s 50/50 with PDA, it depends on who you guys are with, where you guys are at, etc.

he 100% gets super jealous + overprotective of you really easily, if a guy doesn’t leave you alone , he will end up in a fight (you’ll end up scolding him for it)

A soc walked up behind you and touched your waist, “I never knew a greaser could be such a broad..”

You turned around and gently took his hand off of you, “Don’t touch me.” You thought of other things to say, but anything too violent would have you getting jumped.

“Aw c’mon, it was a compliment. You should be grateful.” His voice thickens and he grabs your waist again with more force. Dallas starts walking over to you.

“I don’t feel comfy with a gross Soc touching me!” You struggle pushing his hands off, Dallas ends up right behind you. His arms loosely wrap around your neck, “Is this guy bothering you, doll?” He kisses your cheek, not breaking eye contact with the Soc.

“Oh I see. You’re Dallas Winston’s little slut. Y’know what, I didn’t want to sleep with you anyways” before he was able to walk off, Dallas punched him in the face. Buck had to break up the fight and he ended up limping back to his mustang.

Dallas doesn’t like you smoking often because he knows its bad, despite him going through packs like candy. Once every blue moon you guys would smoke together in his room.

You get drunk easily, and when you’re drunk, you can’t shut up. Dallas had to drag you upstairs to his room so you would stop telling everyone you were horny or you had to pee.

• more suggestive ones •

you guys do it ALOT. quickies are his thing and he doesn’t care where you guys are

he’s a brat tamer. if you don’t act right, he’s dragging you back home and making sure your ass hurts.

lots of choking, pinning you down, tugging at your hair

his favorite positions are doggy style and missionary because he can ‘control’ you way easier. he does like seeing you ride him but sometimes he wishes he could control the pace better, and ends up going into missionary again

he loves overstimulating you, can’t get enough of you moaning his name (ego booster)

#dallas winston x y/n #dally winston #the outsiders #the outsiders dally #the outsiders dallas #dallas winston x reader #headcanon #wattpad #dating

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inumakis-boo · 6 months ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ur text (inumaki toge) ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

synopsis ␥ you give toge inumaki your phone number, and you become addicted to your phone, and him (for all good reasons). major fluff + friends ↝ lovers.

version one out of three. Enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

When you first started texting toge inumaki, if you were totally honest, you werent entirely sure how it was going to go.

You had only caught the subtle hints of his personality during the rare times you saw him in person- and obviously, it was through tone and face expression, becaude most other ways well were.. not optional.

So.. when you finally got the courage to write down your number on a slip of a yellow post-it note, you didn't know exactly what to expect. Just because you thought he might be a cool guy, doesn't mean he might feel the same about you. He may be cool only around people he is used to training with, or is in the same field-level at him.

But his eyes grazed over the neat handwriting (you mustve written the same note about six different times before handing it over), and his looked back at you with smiling eyes, and a thumbs up.

you tried not to wait up all night for the text- why were you so nervous? it was just a phone number, you had given it to everyone basically on campus. he was just the last one.. because you were too nervous to actually give it over.

the phone had dinged you awake from an after school nap, and you groggily picked it up, expecting nothing more than the student group-chat aruging again, but found an unsaved number with nothing more than-

UNSAVED NUMBER: it's inumaki, you gave me ur phone number the other day

UNSAVED NUMBER: idk if you remember haha srry if this is bothering u but i didnt see u at dinner, did u eat?

you try your best to blink out of the sleepiness from your eyes, trying to gauge what you wanted to say.

YOU: hi, and no i didnt forget 🤙🏻

YOU: no i was sleeping, i mustve missed it oops

He had read it almost immediately, which was.. honestly refreshing.

UNSAVED NUMBER: we thought so, so i hope you enjoy whats outside ur door

What? Outside the door? You climbed out of bed, and slowly creeped the door open-

Nobody was out here? Was someone supposed to be coming?

You look down the hall both ways before looking down. A small bag, tied closed, sitting perfectly infront of your door. When you pick it up, the bag is still warm, so it must not have been there for too long.

When you return to your phone, you see even more messages.

UNSAVED NUMBER: everyone thought it was a good idea so you dont miss dinner cause we be doing too much shit to miss out on food

He was right about that one; the days of training and missions had not gotten any easier, and energy was too important to start losing.

YOU: thank you, but how did you know where my room was?

UNSAVED NUMBER: tis a secret

UNSAVED NUMBER: wait that sounds horrible i promise im not a stalker

UNSAVED NUMBER: i just asked someone if they knew

YOU: that kinda sounds like what a stalker would say T-T

UNSAVED NUMBER: NOOOO IM SORRY forget what i said, eat well pls, gn!!

Ah, so under his collar, he was just.. a normal guy.

A funny one at that, with a personality? Nearly shocking for boys your age. The food was good too, with the

When you tell Itadori about last nights dinner, he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Huh, he made you that?" He asks, lips pursed a little. "Thats cool."

"What did everyone else have?" You ask him, as you two both put on your shoes from the school lockers.

"Inumaki made a different dish, a soup."

You had nothing like that- you got salmon and onigiri.

"Huh, thats not surprising." He says after you tell him, "Thats his favorite."

He.. had made you his favorite? and like.. actually made it for you, not just bought whatever from a store. He made something completely different- lighter accounting it being almost bedtime?

So.. he was considerate too.

—

After that, it didn't take long for the messages began to roll back and forth.

What turned from appreciation for his cooking, turned into meme sharing and tiktok sending, then.. into photos, of homework, of a cat brushing up against his leg on the street, a aisle of snacks, asking for what you want. In return, he got imessage games, where he would never lose, opinions on video games and shows, and hypothetical questions about his curse.

YOU: so lets say ur playing a video game

INUDUMBASS: which one

YOU: literally not important, anything competitive

YOU: anyways, ur playing right in a voice chat

INUDUMBASS: yes go on 🙄

YOU: and you start losing, can you say anything

INUDUMBASS: i try not to actively kill people on the mic so no

INUDUMBASS: it will still go through 100%

YOU: nobody said u had to tell someone to do that 😭

INUDUMBASS: clearly you have not been around anybody who is losing in a game before

YOU: god are u rlly that cringy??

INUDUMBASS: are you just finding this out??

INUDUMBASS: and no, i wouldn't ever do that kind of thing, i do have self-control, yknow

YOU: mhm totally

And maybe he did for online players, but he would not hesistate to make the phone drop out of your hands in the lunch room as you two played 8-ball from opposite sides of the table, just to fuck up your aim as you made a winning shot, turning the game over to his benefit.

It's okay, because you got your revenge pulling out the chair from underneath him, and watching him smack his ass on the hard school-floor, and resist not cursing in pain. He would still smile at you- eventually afterwards. He would roll his eyes, but accept the fair play anyways.

It was painfully obvious to everyone else that you two had something going on.

And maybe you didn't realize how much you were admiring him until the personality in his messages shone in him in reality.

Of course, communication was inconvenient but Inumaki wasn't dumb. One eye look told you everything you needed to know. He would snicker at Itadori's occasional mishap while training, then immediately lock in for his own, all the while never sending a mishaped word out of his mouth. And never using more of his curse than needed. Everyone knew he was trustworthy.

Nearly once a day, if he could, he made food (you thought about the first time he made it for you, specially for you, and it makes all his food taste even sweeter) and you watched everyone enjoy it, then noticed as he helped clean up- even though Maki and Megumi urged him to sit. Self-less, kind.

It was really the time on a friday night, after such a long week that everyone decided to ditch the movie theater to instead use the lounges tv (thanks to gojo, was totally decked out for the students), that maybe you start to notice Inumaki- really notice him.

You had been sitting on the food at one end of the long couches, as Toge sat at the other end, his legs draped over the arm rest as he rested his right side against the backrest.

You honestly don't know why you even kept on looking- it wasn't even that serious of a movie, yet he was so intently watching, sweatshirt not big enough to cover the usual half of his face, revealing the thin inky marks on his cheeks, leading to his lips.

He was biting the inside of his lower lip as he watched, probably an old habit back from when he was a kid- he had always been like this, he mentioned once. His arms were lazily crosed, and even his hair had been pushed so strands flicked upwards in tusseled ccondition. His greyish-violet eyes were reflecting all the action scenes, so relaxed but also, analyzing.

For the briefiest moment, you wished it was you that was sitting next to him, not Maki.

Or, the rest of the night, as you tried to focus on the movies, with your arms wrapped around your knees.

It was so odd to think weeks had passed, and suddenly, a boy that you had never known before and were scared to know, had become such a phenomenon in your life. A sustainable source of kindness and excitement that came from a boy that didn't even speak full sentences.

He made your heart flutter. As embarssing as it is. Would probably say it was embarssing, if he knew. Not like it was really ever that serious, right?

You two were friends, maybe an odd pair, but at the very least, very good classmates, and at the best, two people that loved to bully each other and talk even when words were a non-possibility.

—

TOGE: hey btw, you looked great tn.

YOU: lmao i looked like a bum

TOGE: well even if you did, it looked cute

TOGE: anyways, ima going tobed, im sleepy,, night night

was this really all in your head?

YOU: night night, toge :)

TOGE: :)))

It had to be.

The next morning was going to prove difficult for that insanity plea;

TOGE: i have nothing planned for today

YOU: you should be studying 😭

TOGE: nah, i should be hanging out with you

YOU: this is hanging out with me

TOGE: no like, hang out hang out

YOU: where? its too hot outside today

TOGE: in my dorm then?

YOU: with who?

TOGE: with you??

TOGE: At six, you should come hang with me, itll be fun

You swallow as you look down at your phone screen, and take your bottom lip between your teeth. That same feeling was coming back, but not out of any of the reasons before. This felt different. An excited giddiness with freckles of nervousness.

YOU: as long as you got the snacks, i wont miss it

TOGE: ill buy the whole store for you

Ahaha.. so funny right?

Somehow, it was starting to feel like the real joke was how well you were fooling yourself into thinking this was just friendly banter.

You found yourself showering and picking out a comfy outfit, braiding your hair and carefully selecting a perfume. You nearly caught yourself trying to replay the memory of getting dressed the night of the movie-party.

"hey btw, you looked great-"

You wish he could tell you to just stop thinking, would be doing you a huge solid. Especially as you approach his room, which you had found yourself wondering what was on the other side, when the boy stepped out from the door frame.

"Konbu." He waved, with a warm smile. His hair was pushed back from his face a little, and he had a white sleepshirt on, with some baggy grey sweatpants.

"Hi, Toge." You had never really called him by his first name before, and if he thought negatively, the small smile reaching his eyes disobeyed the thought.

He stepped aside and let you take your first look into the room- maybe you had not thought about it so hard, but it somehow made sense.

Band posters on some of the walls, poor taken photos of the second years and first years all together taped there too, an occasional plant dangling off a book shelf or window sill, a dresser, a little worn with character, sits nearby with a tv angled on its edge, towards the bed for easy viewing. A PS4 sits behind it, along with a headset, with the mic turned away from the front.

He has books sitting on his desk, an old fashioned hand-carry radio sits on one of its edges, and it makes for also a side table to his bed, sitting on a metal bedframe with blankets and infamous navy bedsheets.

Its springing with his character, and the smell of a refreshing cologne is in the air- the same type she would catch sometimes lingering as he walked by.

"Its not what I expected."

He walked by her to sit at his spinning desk chair, turning to face her. "Salmon?" He inquires.

"Well yeah, its just your style. With the uniform and your curse, it might not be so obvious to other people who don't know you."

He leaned back in the chair and looked up interestedly at the ceiling. Was that rude to say?

He takes out his phone, and a quick second later, presents the phone screen to you, opened to the notes app.

/i never thought abt it like that/

/well, i mean, i have but im glad you understand it, kinda impressive that you figured it out/

/or im just easily readable/

"That would be a good thing, right?" You leave the phone screen on, but puts it away from your view. "That your friends get to read you, despite everything. That means youve gotten good at what you do.."

Toge's lips quirk to one side as he thinks, and your eyes watch as his marks follow the corners.

He raises his hand to get a wishy-washy motion, and you furrow your brows. When he types, he stops you from picking up your phone aswell, only to present what hes wrote in the text box.

/Well, kinda. no matter what I do to express myself, its kinda hard to be fully understood. i miss out on a huge part of everyday life, even if people understand what idea im trying to get across, its atypical./

/no amount of tone or facial expression can amount to words and their complex meanings. i think i am actually really lucky that my curse does not extend to messages- i think id be screwed./

"I don't think its too different to what people really feel like though." You explain to listening ears. "Most people felt like they aren't totally understood, that people just don't get them totally.. but I understand that, you don't have much of a choice, and we take advantage of what we can do sometimes."

You watch his face change a little to settle on your features more- and you feel yourself being pulled into his attention.

"I think even if your curse had taken away your ability to communicate in ways you do now, youre still worth knowing, Toge. I think everyone agrees."

His eyes soften, and it nearly strikes your heart into a million pieces. His smile too, could he be anymore cute? He wasn't hiding it this time. He shows how much he appreciates your words in the flush of his cheeks and the way his palms meet together.

He lets out a relaxing sigh, and looks away, then his eyes light up to bags sitting by the bedside.

"Sujiko." He urges to look, pointing to the grocery bag, which seems to be loaded with stuff. You walk closer and grab it, then find yourself sitting down quietly on the side of his bed.

The bag is full of snacks and drinks, some previously mentioned in chats, like he had written them all down, and got them for you to see.

"You bought the whole store, huh?" You raised an eyebrow playfully.

A grin and a happy thumbs up in return.

As promised.

You spend the next few hours bambling about his bedroom, looking through all the semi-decent hidden school papers, and letting him explain all the pictures on the wall.

He explained things thoroughly, like each detail was inside of him, kept for safekeeping. His eyes would light up in such appreciation, and it almost felt natural when you were caught in his gaze. Like he could keep you for safekeeping too.

Of course, his PlayStation was clean and ready for use, and by the time you two had gotten the controllers out and opened Ramune bottles, the sunlight was long gone. Outside was quiet, but you two didn't care much as you two sat together, him letting you sit on the bed while he took the floor. Glaringly bright flashes of action splattered against the postered walls, and more than once, your playful nudge with your foot against his arm to mess up caused much whining and laughter alike.

His laughter was like an entirely different language, speaking of his delight. It was not a rarity, but still a treasure. It is infectious and only serves to remind you that he is just a teenager, and he is having so well-deserved fun.

Eventually, Maki knocked against the wall and shouted through muffled barriers "Inumaki, be quiet, I am trying to sleep!" the sound alarmed them both, but only created further snickering.

But, they turned off the game in a half-apology and instead put on some horror flick that was on a student-shared Hulu account, and you both settle down eating gummi worms and flavored popcorn.

Maybe it was being distracted by having such a good time, it takes the calm before the storm of the horror movie to realize Toge and you have gotten really comfortable on his bed, backs against his pillows. They smell like his shampoo.. or maybe you are just close enough to smell it off of him. It's soft, comfortable, and clean, and something new to your senses.

He is warm, you can tell. His body is close enough, legs crossed as they lay straight down on top of the duvet, but his arm supports his head, and is behind you on the pillow. He seems semi-entertained (of course, you had challenged him to watch a horror movie.. but maybe challenging a Jujutsu Sorcerer to not get scared was faulty logic. There were scarier things than makeup and bad wigs.)

You didn't wanna look at your phone- you didn't want to see the time and be guilty for staying so long, you knew it must be close to midnight. Would he tell you that you should go to sleep? Would he bring you back to your dorm and say goodbye at the door?

Ignoring the time for the sake of Toge's soft cologne and sheets? Sounded pretty selfish, although it made your stomach flutter.

"Am I keeping you awake?" It comes out as a whisper, and you lean in closer.

"Bonito flakes." He whispered back swiftly with a head shake no, tearing his eyes from the screen to you. He smiles a little, charmingly, as the flecks of violet in his eyes flash with the TV screen. This was the first time you saw them in all their detail, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

When you both turn away from each other, you can feel his arm shift from his face, and around the pillow you were laying on. It makes you shift inevitably closer.

His shirt bunches towards the side he is lying on, revealing the sliver of skin between the hem and the top of his sweatpants, toned and pale in the soft light. You try not to stare.

It makes you think. Was thing.. flirting?

Was the attraction to the cursed speech user simmering ever since the first message? Since the first time you saw him at the beginning of the school year?

Would anybody blame you? All those times when there was nothing to be scared of when he proved nothing less than just a great friend, kind, playful, selfless, and strong?

You knew that would never change- for as long as he was here and breathing. He wanted everyone to know that's who he was.

Who would blame you, as you let the feeling ride with sliding your hand to the middle of his chest? His white sleepshirt is soft after many rounds of wash, but what is even better is resting your cheek against his shoulder, right at the top where his arm meets, and you can feel his eyes glance at you. It feels like such a relief, although you wonder if this is really normal to be happy about.

"Is this okay?" You whisper.

In response, his hand slips away from the distance on the pillow behind you, and the pads of his fingers rest on your arm, hugging you slightly closer.

"Mhm." He hums in approval quietly, and his fingertips graze your soft skin, up and down slowly. "Salmon."

This tango had endured until the near end of the movie, yet you could barely pay attention to any of the plots because Toge was holding you so securely, and letting you trace circles on the middle of his chest, and the sound of his deep breaths were overtaking your thoughts anyways rather than the fake monster on screen.

You are nearly ready to close your eyes, when you can feel a squeeze on your arm, and when you open your eyes, you can see the same notes app in dark mode, with something written out.

/Are you tired?/

"N-No, not yet." You look at the time at the top of the screen. 12:49 am.

He seems amused by that, raising an eyebrow.

"You're just comfortable." You say as you both totally ignore the last few minutes of the movie. "It's nice being with you."

Toge looks at you like he wants to say something, pursing his lips as he smiles and glances away for a moment.

Is your heart racing? This is the best you've felt in weeks. Why does it feel like your stomach is fluttering?

He presents his notes again, and you honestly wish he could say them himself.

/When we first met, I honestly wouldn't think we would be so close. I am really happy we are. I feel like now is a good time to tell u, since we are alone./

Your cheeks feel like they are burning, and its your turn to look away in feble attempt to hide the flush arising.

"I am happy too." You begin to explain, "You're.. you're fun and kind.. you have always been so nice to me and listen to me snore on about classes and training. You watch all the stupid tiktoks I send you and ask for my opinions. I always feel like you notice everything and youre trustworthy. I can.. only hope that I am half as genuine to you as you are to me."

Toge nods in confirmation. It makes you feel like you're on fire, and the background music with the black credits screen cannot even pull your attention from him.

His chest was rising and falling right below your fingertips, and his face slowly focused on you, the tension feels so good and thick, that you honestly wonder how much longer you will convince yourself that normal friendships feel like this.

He was always honest with you. He deserved it in return, but it might be the most vulnerable you've been in years. He deserved that too- he had never held anything back.

"I think I like you."

The words leave your mouth before you even have a chance to smack yourself into reality. Instead, they sit between the darkness and him.

"More than just being friends."

His grip loosens just a tad, and panic seems to run through your body- he was not interested, you had completely misunderstood the situation.

"I-Im sorry-" You take your hands away and try your best to sit up from practically lying down. You were in a boys room, what were you thinking? You should get some space from him, so he doesn't think you a total freak. "I didn't-"

You can feel a tight bond around your wrist, keeping you right where you sit, and when you whip your head back, his eyes are wide with interest and warmth that you want to melt into a puddle of dumb choices. He opens his mouth, maybe to try to say something, but he considers it over and over again. When he feels sure you wont go, he lets go.

He raises a finger to his eye-

both hands cover the center of his chest, cusping it almost-

Heart.

Finally, one last finger. Pointed at-

You..

Was he trying to say.. I like you?

Your body relaxes finally, and the urge to run away is still lingering, but you can't honestly say you want to. Not with how his eyes are flattering with some kind of emotion, his arms opening.

You can't hold back any longer. Your arms swiftly move around his neck as you envelop him so closely, and he instantly hugs you back, pulling you so close your lips meet the skin of his neck. He sounds like he is humming, his hands rubbing your back soothingly. You sit an appreciate his scent, the feeling of his skin, his warmth, for just a moment or two longer until he slowly departs from you, searching your face for any further comment.

"That's really.. really good to hear." You sigh out, with a bit of a smile, reaching to rub a weary eye; you realize he has taken your hand in the process.

He offers his own hand, letting it rub the corner were some wetness at resided, before letting the rest of his finger skin around you hairline, then through your strands of hair. He follows each motion, as he tries to comfort you.

Your hand reaches to sit atop his, and although its late and if someone knew you two were here together, not only would it at the very least be a detention and school clean up duty and at the very best, be a rumor the other students would talk about, despite this you honestly didn't care when the perfect boy was sitting right infront of you, with tussled hair and red lips, just like that night during the movie-party.

"I know its late." She started to say, but he quickly took out his phone again. "I won't keep you up anymore."

/you keep me up no matter what./

/atleast here i get to hear your pretty voice and see your face./

"What do you think about.. when you think of me?" You needed to know what he had been thinking of you all this time.

Instead of using his phone, his hands gently present themselves, and touch parts of your body chastely.

His hands travel from your palm, fingers skimming past your veins in a kind of silent poetry-

Your scars.. your freckles, your strength, your sunkissed summertime skin.

Then, he brushes past your shoulder to twirl around with your hair-

your beauty, the way you attract people.

Then up your face to your temple-

Your brain, your mind.

Then your cheeks-

Your flush, your sweet smiles.

Finally, the pad of his thumb grazes against your chin, right below your lower lip.

The way you speak, the way you are.

You can feel the urge in him, radiating off his lidded eyes and hesistant touch, quietly as he landscapes your being.

"You can, yknow." His eyes look up towards your gaze, "If you want too. If you are ready, of course-"

"Please," The words stilled you instantly, yet he continued holding your face more tenderly. They were soft and yet thick. "Kiss me."

The curse enacted on you, and although for a brief flash there was some concern in his face that perhaps it was too soon, quickly was dismissed when he saw you come closer by the help of his hand, and for just a moment held the proximity between your pairs of lips before slowly pressing close, your lips gently against his.

It was chaste and quiet on the outside, but it was like adding more gunpower to an already lit firework, the explosion of emotion surging your veins making you never wanting to leave.

His thumb was caressing the side of your cheek, it was making you dizzy with his attention. It was everything you had hoped for the moment you had even thought of him- to be close in every single way, to know every part of the perfect, strong, peaceful boy that you so clearly saw every day.

It felt like a dream, but at the very least, hoped you would wake up on his chest, with the Playstation off and the soft breathing of your boy in the air.

But instead, youre both here, and he is kissing you like he has won the lottery.

You both smile, until you couldn't tell when the kiss ended, and where the laughter began.

Surely, he was smart and kind and self-less and strong and all those things youd toss about in your mind at night.

But the idea that this may have never happened because you were too shy to say hello to the usually quiet and calm boy, made you feel like the stupidest yet luckiest girl in the world.

Maybe it was you that had won the jackpot, just by giving away a simple yellow post-it note.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊

thank you so much for reading! this is only ending one. i have plans for a nsfw verison and an misunderstanding verison. please let me know if any of yall are interested!

see you later pookies!

#please this took me forever to write #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu megumi #jjk #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk inumaki #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #inumaki toge headcanons #toge inumaki fluff #i was also trying to be aesthetic with it #Spotify

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taintedcigs · 1 year ago

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GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SIX: ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES

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✦ summary: in which the truth about steve's party is revealed and eddie leaves reader another note (wc: 8.6k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FIST FIGHT?!?, HUGE WARNING FOR BRUISES AND AN ABSIVE RELATIONSHIP!!!, mention of bruises, mention of shoving someone, BILLY IS ABSIVE, if this content makes you uncomfortable lmk so i can make a summary of it, or just skip the flash back (but its like half of the chapter>:() chrissy is horrible, BILLY is even more horrible, chrissy says some classist shit!!, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — @andvys ily thank u for always being so helpful w everything i hope u like this chapter bb!! not proof-read srry ignore mistakes !! and as i said this is a heavy chapter so lmk if any of u need a summary on the flashback. and im so sorry for making chrissy such a villain i actually rlly love her characterr >:(

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

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FIVE YEARS AGO.STEVE’S PARTY.

Twenty minutes. You’ve been waiting in line for the bathroom at Steve’s stupid party for the last twenty minutes. Even plenty of people ahead of you had frustratedly groaned and left by now. But you weren’t going to give up that easy.

A muffled string of curses filtered through the door before she turned the lock. The door creaked open slightly, revealing a glimpse of Chrissy's face. She gave you a slight smile, and cluelessly, your face lit up. “Oh, thank god! Can you please let me in, I left my jacket in there.” You giggled, words tangled to each other as you made a clumsy attempt to slip past her, but she closed the door further.

With furrowed brows, you looked up at her. “Uh, I’m busy in here,” She giggled nervously, head tilting towards the side. “Oh,” You murmured.

“OH!” The realization was slow to hit you. She was with someone. You started grinning childishly. “Who’s the lucky guy?” You quipped your brows excitedly, causing Chrissy to stammer.

You tried to pry open the door, brows still wiggling but Chrissy didn’t let you, mumbling something about being embarrassed. “Oh, come on, Chrissy…” You murmured, still grappling with her to open the door.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—” you began with a childlike giggle, attempting to open the door even wider.

Your giggles were quick to die down when the door fell open, no words dared to come out of your lips as you finally saw who Chrissy was with. Billy. Soberness overcame you just at the sight of Billy’s disheveled hair, and Chrissy’s swollen plump lips.

Your best friend and your boyfriend.

Your eyes blinked rapidly, desperately wishing it was all a hallucination. The reality of the situation was slow to hit you, your vision blurred uncontrollably, throat tightening, and causing you to feel stuck, almost paralyzed.

With a gulp, you were quick to take a step back, ignoring them calling your name as you turned back, forgetting all about the jacket you were supposed to get back when your legs felt so wobbly. You could hear the chatter outside the door get louder, everyone else taking a peak at what just happened. The whispers and gasps of everyone around you felt like mocking echoes.

You didn’t even know what to feel first. Anger? Jealousy? Sadness? Embarrassment?

It was a mix of all four and your chest hurts, tears welled up in your eyes, burning down your cheeks as your breaths came in shallow gasps, you couldn’t make any sense of it, and you couldn’t fucking understand it.

You felt it, felt betrayal like a physical sensation, like there was a void in your chest. And you could sense that Billy was running after you, trying to catch up to you, but you resisted the temptation to slow down, your anger acting as a protective shield.

“Baby, I swear nothing happened.” He exclaimed, desperation lacing his voice. Your eyes rolled instinctively, head tuning out the words that were too little, too late.

“Please, just listen to me she kissed me I didn’t! I tried to push her off—” You shouldn’t turn around, you definitely shouldn’t turn around and give him that satisfaction.

But you do.

“For twenty minutes?!? You tried to push her off for twenty fucking minutes?” You yell back bitterly.

“It isn’t what you think, please just let me explain!”

“Twenty fucking minutes, Billy!” You spat, pain quick to turn into anger. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” Your fingers discarded your hair in anger, everything you knew to be true wasn’t anymore.

You knew what you had with Billy was fucked up, it wasn’t a normal nor a healthy relationship, but it was familiar and you were used to it, used to him. A relationship with this many ups and downs became your version of normalcy, even though it shouldn’t have.

No matter what happened, you thought he loved you, all those promises he whispered into your ear while you slept comfortably on his chest, all the times he murmured that he loved you, that he could never imagine being with anyone else, a whole fucking lie.

And it hurt.

Because you knew how hard it would be to walk away from this. You knew you couldn’t break away from him. You needed something to desperately pull you away. Show you that you deserved better than this.

No one would love you more than he did. He told you that a thousand times because it was true. He would do anything and everything for you. And you didn’t know why that enticed you, why being in such a fucked up situation hurt you in the best way possible, like an intoxicating yet destructive obsession.

And anyway, why would anyone even love you? You were a mess, a fuck up, nothing you did ever amounted to anything, and you knew that, you knew you were destined to be this way, to be with someone who constantly hurt you. Nothing you could do would be enough to get you out of the mess that was your mind.

“I would never do that to you, never.” His eyes were glossy, mirroring yours, you could tell when he lied to you, and this wasn’t one of those times. And you hated that your gaze softened with that because you wanted to believe him.

You knew he was flirty, you knew that the second you started dating Billy; from the countless times he flirted with the waitress when he took you to dinner, how he always got a little too close with the female lifeguards, how he charmed all the moms in Hawkins with a slight wink, it was a script you knew all too well. And you kept your mouth shut, tolerated it, only because he always brushed it off as nothing.

You didn’t mind it because he loved you, he told you he did, and you believed him. The countless arguments, the accidental bruises, name-callings, punches in the wall, you forgave it all. Because he loved you, he told you that love made him this way, it made him this insane and angry. And you let him make you believe that his erratic behavior was love, until today.

Because this was different, this was Chrissy. Your supposed best friend. Yes, Billy probably didn’t start making out with her, but he surely wasn’t eager to finish it either.

The betrayal cut deeper than any argument or bruise; it was a wound inflicted by the two people you believed loved you unconditionally.

You let out a sarcastic chuckle, arms crossing against your chest as you could feel your face burn up with anger, tears drying out. “You are something else,” you uttered, disappointment and resentment flavoring your words.

“I don’t want to ever see you again, Billy, and I fucking mean it.”

“Calm down,” he whispered, a feeble attempt to pacify you.

“No! I am not going to fucking ‘calm down’. You—you fucking cheated on me w-with Chrissy!” Your voice wavered, and you hated it, your anger wasn’t powerful enough to wash away the pain you felt, and tears were stinging your eyes again.

“Jesus how many times do I have to tell you she fucking kissed me! I-I didn’t fuckin’ cheat!” He defended but you shook your head. “And, anyway, didn’t you fucking kiss that freak?”

A lump formed in your throat, a bitter taste accompanying the memory. Yes, you did. But it was after one of your infamous breaks with Billy, the two of you were broken up. Eddie and you promised each other that it was nothing, that it would just complicate things between the two of you. And you knew, if Billy ever found out about it, he would not leave it alone, he wouldn’t let you hang out with him. He would mess with him till no end. And you didn’t want Eddie involved in it. Ever.

“I told you we didn’t!” You lied through your teeth, it didn’t matter now. What you did could never compare to what he fucking did. Ever. But you were starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Chrissy spreading that rumor was not an accident, at all.

Anger simmered, building like a storm inside you. “Don’t try to shift the blame on me, you fucking kissed her!”

“I didn’t—”

“Did you not fucking kiss her back you asshole?” You interrupted, the surge of anger propelling you forward. Your hands found his shoulders, pushing him roughly. Billy stammered, opening his mouth to speak. “I-I only for like a minute, then I fuckin’ pulled away, I swear!” He defended himself, making you huff angrily.

“It’s over, Billy.” You muttered, gaze meeting his.

“I mean it.” You added, his sympathetic gaze was quick to turn cold, and it made you feel uneasy, how comfortable he was going from gentle to rough so quickly.

His lips twisted into a cynical skepticism, “for how long this time? Eight hours? Two fucking days? A week?” There was that lump in your throat again. Billy didn’t believe that you could leave him, and you felt that tight, unexplainable feeling sink into your chest, he thought you’d stay with him no matter what, like a fucking object that he could do whatever he wants to. It’s sickeningly insulting, your hand raises to slap him, but he’s faster.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His harsh grip on your wrist hurts, but what hurts more is the fresh bruise he left on your forearm two days ago, another fight that got too grabby.

“L-let me go,” you embarrassingly begged, wincing at his relentless grip. Your face scrunched with pain, eyes squeezing shut. The tenderness of the bruise made the slightest touch unbearable.

His hand twisted your wrist further, harsh hold squeezing more tears out of you than you realized. “B-billy,” you begged, again. Only then, Billy noticed your discomfort, swallowing hard before reluctantly releasing your arm. An emptiness replaced his hold, and your vision blurred as you tried to reassure yourself, fingertips gently tracing the purplish bruise.

“D-does forever work?” It comes out as a whisper, words tangling to each other when you recollect yourself from him, still trying to find the broken pieces he scattered, leaving without another word.

And he didn’t bother to run after you, watching your figure leave while guilt set in, the sight of that purple blotch on your arm, how you flinched at any contact, the way you closed up during arguments, it was all because of him. All because he couldn’t fucking help himself; his anger or his need for control.

He doesn’t escape the cycle.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you walked away, tears streaming down your face. Your hands shook as you wiped them away, the weight of everything breaking free in a flood of sobs.

You immediately make your way to the drink stand, praying to whatever god there is that no one else can perceive you for the rest of the night so that you can drown in your sorrows and drink all of it away.

You barely registered Chrissy approaching you between sobs and the harsh scoop of the 'pure fire,' as Steve called it, into the red cup clutched in your fists. “Can I talk to you?” Her voice, when it finally reached your ears, felt mocking, and carried a giddy undertone that enraged you more and more.

“No,” you scoffed, refusing to entertain the idea, turning your attention back to the sorrowful task of filling your cup.

“Come on, take a chill pill,” she attempted to joke, her usual signature line falling flat. Your glare, sharp as the knives you felt in your back, met her with anger. She huffed a sigh of breath.

“Please I’m sorry, just let me talk—”

“What the fuck do you want to talk about, huh?” You set the cup down harshly, the impact of it had the drink sloshing all over the surface, “the fact that you tried to kiss my boyfriend?” you interrupted with a spiteful look.

Her wavering sympathy dissipated at your accusation, eyes turning cold as she furrowed her brows. “What?” she hissed. “Tried? Is that what he told you?” She scoffed.

Your face scrunched. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You spat back, you didn’t care if your words hurt her in the slightest, your thoughts were purely consumed by her betrayal.

“Excuse me?” Chrissy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus, Pinky are you really that fucking gullible?” She asked tilting her head almost mockingly.

“Or do you really think that highly of yourself?” Your mouth struggled to open, heart dropped to your stomach when you realized she didn’t even care.

“We were in that bathroom for twenty minutes, use your imagination.” That goddamn smirk curved on her lips, and you knew you have never felt this amount of pain before, it was insulting, to ever think you called her your friend.

“Oh, you are such a fucking-” You could feel your blood boiling, almost ready to attack her, your drunken haze giving you enough courage.

But her annoying tone interrupted you, “Did you really think you were perfect? That you were enough for Billy?”

“What did you think? That he would want a fucking charity case like you?” The tears pooled your eyes again, but you weren’t going to let her see it, so you held them in, clenching your fists as your breath caught in your throat. All of her insults became a deafening background noise to your ears. “Newsflash, Pinky you have junkies for parents. You’re too messed up. Even for Billy.”

The heat rushed to your cheeks at the last insult, earning a visceral reaction because of how cruel she was. Disgust and anger overtook your senses quicker than you intended them to, you felt small, and so fucking stupid.

Regret gnawed at you – You should’ve never let her in. You should’ve never let her comfort you. You should’ve never told her anything. It was all your fucking fault. For trusting anyone that came in your way.

Just because you wanted to feel loved, just because you wanted to fill that void that your parents left. And it was so ironic, considering they couldn’t give two shits about you, yet your deepest wound would always be them.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Chrissy.” You spat, masking all of your emotions. You had mastered it at this point. You didn’t care what she said about you, she could keep her mouth running, because she was dead to you. Maybe you could’ve forgiven her for the whole Billy thing because fuck him too, he was no saint, right?

But making fun of your parents was one line she couldn’t cross.

“You’re more fit for that trailer trash freak.” Scratch that. Making fun of Eddie was one line she couldn’t fucking cross. Eddie. She couldn’t breathe near him if she wanted to, she didn’t deserve it.

Your teeth grounded together, and fury fueled your rise to your feet. “Don’t ever call him that again.” The words slipped between gritted teeth, the realization of how close you had walked to her only dawned as you unintentionally cornered her.

She looked taken aback, brows pinched together. “What are you gonna do? Go all trailer trash on me too?” She chuckled, annoyingly loud.

You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.

But she also shouldn’t have insulted Eddie.

You are ready to lunge at her, feet planted closer as your hands are formed as fists at your side, and just as you’re about to take another step, a harsh arm yanked you away. Seconds away from getting that satisfaction, and just like that, you’re ripped away from it.

“What the—” You turned swiftly to see the culprit, as you harshly shook off the hold on you, your bruises still hurt, causing loud whines to part from your lips. Steve. Chrissy was back in your face, mocking laughter dancing in her eyes. “God, you’re predictable.” The laughter stung, and the pressure of your anger almost built up in your jaw. “Fuck you, you stupid—” You try again. No luck. Of course, Steve, with an unyielding grip, dragged you away.

Chrissy walked past, reveling in the scorned look etched on your face. She paused, turning with a smirk. “Oh, and next time you get a ‘freak accident’, make sure you don’t forget your jacket.” She pointed toward the fresh bruise on your forearm, courtesy to Billy who grabbed you a little too hard during another heated argument. Then she threw the jacket right next to you, on the floor landing with a mocking thud as she left with an irritating cackle.

Impressively, Steve picked it up while maintaining his hold on you. “Let me go!” Your almost-scream echoed, his hands were unintentionally grazing the tender bruise, and it fucking hurt.

Only when he knew Chrissy was out of sight did he release his grip, and you shook him off with an exasperated huff. “What the fuck?!?” You questioned, gaze burning with fury. “Right back at you, what the fuck was that, Pinky?” He asked, tone more concerned than angry. “Nothing,” you muttered. It was such an obvious lie that Steve rolled his eyes. “That won’t work with me.”

In a defiant move, you grabbed the drink, aiming to drown the tension, but Steve intercepted, harshly putting it back down. A glare shot his way. “Will you leave me alone?” “No.” He protested with a pinch of his brows. “So, tell me.” “Steve,” you whined. You didn’t want to be interrogated by him, you knew he cared. But you just couldn’t handle it. “I’m serious, you do realize this is my house, right?” His tone carried a veiled threat and you rolled your eyes at him. “I could kick you out any time I wanted to.” Your gaze narrowed, disbelief etched across your face. "You wouldn’t do shit." With a raise of his brows, Steve swiftly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulders. It all happened so fast that you weren’t quick to start softly punching his back and screaming. God, he really was good at distracting you, so good that his little act almost coaxed a reluctant smile from your lips. “Put me down!” You yelled behind him, your fists landed on his back with a not-so-impactful force.

“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve asked, relishing the way you continued to thrash over his shoulder. Your face grew hotter every second, and with an annoyed huff, you finally nodded. “Yes, Jesus Christ!”

He gently lowered you to the ground, and a teasing glint danced in Steve's eyes as he quipped, "Atta girl." You responded with a scoff and a mock annoyed chuckle.

“So?” He questioned, arms crossing against his chest, his demeanor shifted, the playful atmosphere dissipating as his expression turned serious. “I caught Chrissy and Billy in the bathroom.” “What?” Genuine shock washed over Steve's features, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Yeah I—” “And she still had the nerve to say all those fucking things?” Embarrassment surged, fluttering your cheeks hot. “You, uh, you heard those?” Steve responded with a quick nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Pinky, not with me.” He reassured you, his hand finding a comforting place on your waist, “she's the one who should be fuckin’ embarrassed. Jesus.”

“Thought she was supposed to be your friend,” Steve said, his gaze softening with empathy.

“Me too.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips.

His gaze lingered on the gnarly bruises decorating your arm, a visible wince reflecting in his expression. "And what about those?" he gulped, concern etching lines on his face.

You were quick to dismiss it with a wave, too quickly that of fucking course Steve knew something was wrong, you didn’t even dare to look at the bruises, or him in the eyes.

“Bike accident,” you muttered, lying through your teeth.

"Since when do you have a bike?" Steve questioned and gauged your reaction, he knew you were lying, you were avoiding his gaze, and you looked visibly nervous, but he didn’t want to push this. It was too personal, and this wasn’t the place for it. So, he understood, of course, he did. He or Nancy should’ve been the one you confided in. But you didn’t want to burden them with your problems.

“If—” Steve took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “If you ever need to talk about anything—and I mean anything—you can always talk to me. Hell, us! You can always talk to us, you know that, right?” His hand was quick to caress your back, gently, letting you know that he would always be there.

You nodded, but you wanted this pity party to be over, you wanted—needed Eddie. Just one hug from him. And maybe a joint.

“I-I know, thank you.” You hesitantly replied, stumbling over your words.

“You need anything?” He asked sincerely.

You shook your head softly. “No… but have you seen Eddie?”

“He was selling to some idiots on the porch, might still be there.” He shrugged.

You were quick to nod, you had to leave, immediately. You didn’t want to worry Steve. “Thanks, Stevie, see you around?” You hummed, managing a smile that he mirrored.

And with that you were quick to grab your drink, downing it with a hiss before you almost ran to the porch, you didn’t want to see Billy or Chrissy again. You needed to find Eddie. And god, was it hot, you didn’t know if it was because of everything that transpired in the last twenty minutes, or it was because of the alcohol flowing in your system but you were burning up. And you didn’t want to wear your jacket. You should have.

A harsh breeze of air hit you once you finally stepped on the porch, fresh yet biting, serving as a slap of reality that had your eyes watering, you didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but the tears came immediately. It was pathetic, really. You with the bruises, half-drunk, discovering your friend with your boyfriend, breaking up with your boyfriend, and then earning insults from the said friend who was hooking up with your boyfriend. A rollercoaster of a fucking night, but it was just getting started. Slouching on the porch stairs, your head hung low to your knees as you covered your face with shame, almost. Mind reeling in the worst way possible.

The insults stuck to it, Chrissy’s plump lips, Billy’s disheveled hair. His harsh grip on your arm. The way he mocked you. The insults Chrissy uttered. It was all a fucking mess. And you couldn’t handle any more of it.

All the emotions you pent up over the years wanted to flow through your eyes, ruining you, completely breaking you apart.

The red cup in your hand was crumpled roughly, each attempt to stifle your cries only intensified the shaking of the cup, spilling over to the stairs.

Where was he?

Where was Eddie?

Your mind was spinning and the only thing you could think of was him.

“Pinky?” The soft tone of his voice sliced through the tumult in your mind, and your head snapped up, eyes immediately watered at the sight.

There he stood, a boyish grin adorning his face, shaggy bangs falling over his amber eyes, a stupid leather jacket, and those stupid black jeans with chains attached to the hip. Him.

“Finally! Been lookin’ everywhere for you, sweetheart,” His voice wrapped around you like a reassuring embrace, but your foggy mind took a while for everything to register. When it did, you shot up, the world spinning dizzily, as you threw yourself into his arms. Sobs escaped freely, muffled against his jacket.

His voice immediately softened, gentle hands running through your hair as he cooed. “Hey.. hey… what happened?” His tone so sweetly sick that you couldn’t help but melt into him, letting his warmth take over.

Your breath caught up in your throat, and Eddie gently pulled away from the hug. Soft hands cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, grounding you with a simple touch. You gave into him, succumbing to his tenderness.

This was what you needed. And it was almost as clear as day. It should’ve always been him.

"I-I-" Your words stumbled over your sobs, the weight on your chest making it hard to breathe. Eddie's concerned eyes met yours, wiping away the tears on your cheek gently.

“Honey, hey, hey…” He caught your attention, his soothing voice breaking through the haze. His brows furrowed with worry, and you blinked open your eyes, focusing on him. "Breathe, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" Like a lifeline, his words pulled you back from the edge. Concern etched on his face, apparent from his brows creasing.

What the fuck happened? And who fucking did this to you?

Eddie had a good idea who did it: Billy. The very thought of that name sent a surge of anger through his veins. Hadn't this asshole put you through enough already? What could he have fucking done now?

You drew in a shuddering breath, and Eddie, recognizing your struggle, encouraged you while soothingly caressing your hair, calming you down further and further.

"Deep breaths, just like that. Breathe for me," he coaxed, and you obediently followed, shallow breaths gradually returning to normal as you focused on him.

His touch was gentle, hands still caressing your cheeks as he asked with genuine concern, "Are you doing okay now?" He asked, gaze mellow and lips overturned with worry

You nodded, but it wasn't convincing enough for him. As your hiccups persisted, you finally managed to articulate through the tears, "Chrissy."

Eddie's heart tightened, a quizzical look on his face. Chrissy? What did she have to do with this?

"Billy hooked up with Chrissy," you revealed, it was the most clear you had spoken to him and he still had a hard time understanding it.

His brows pinched together both in anger and confusion, his hold on you faltering once he registered your words.

So, Billy cheated on you?

Oh, now he was going to kill that bastard. Once he made sure you were okay, he was going to beat the shit out of him.

"What?" he exclaimed a little too loudly, his hold on you momentarily faltering in sheer shock.

"They—what?" he stammered.

"I caught them in the bathroom, Eddie, I—" Your tears blurred your vision again, and in frustration, you ran your hand through your hair.

That's when Eddie's eyes widened, and he pointed to something, asking, "What's that?"

You froze, desperately attempting to dismiss it, but Eddie wasn't having it. His hands gently flew to your forearm, and you flinched just in time, hastily trying to put on the jacket you should've already been wearing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Now he was going to ask so many questions, and you knew he wouldn’t let go like Steve did, and he would know if you lied, in a heartbeat.

He huffed quickly, ignoring your protests as he softly held onto your arm, just around the bruise, being careful not to cause any more pain. Your lip trembled in the process. Shit, shit, shit.

“Pinky…” he murmured, worry creasing his brows at the royal purple mark.

If Eddie knew, there was no turning back, there was no way he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. A part of you was happy about it—maybe he could pull you away, maybe everything would be okay.

But the other part of you was terrified. Because you know he wouldn’t think of your bruises as nothing like you did and like Billy kept assuring you, he wouldn’t just let this go like you would. He would stand up for you, and while you were grateful, you were equally scared.

“N-nothing,” you muttered, avoiding his intense gaze.

“That’s not nothing,” his hand extended, slowly but surely making you reveal the full extent of the huge, gnarly bruise on your arm, with another one freshly forming from the hold Billy had on you earlier. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, trying to avoid the genuine gasp waiting to escape his lips, “What happened?” His gaze found yours.

“Bike accident,” you lied through your teeth, a stupid fucking lie. He would never buy it.

“You don’t have a bike.” He heaved a sigh of breath, the thought of these bruises forming because of Billy didn’t even form his mind, sure he was awful and an asshole, but Eddie never thought he would be that awful.

“I used Mike’s.” Another lie.

“Did something bad happen?”

“No!”

“Pinky,” he said it so seriously that you felt bad. “Tell me, please.” His tone was awfully worrying.

How the fuck were you going to tell him?

“We were arguing—”

“What?” He quickly snapped back, not at you, but at what you were implying. He could almost feel the color draining from his cheeks. You surely didn’t mean…

“It-it was nothing!” You defended with a dismissive wave, but it didn’t stop his eyes widening. “We just- we were just arguing, and-and then he tried to hold me but i-it was just a little tight!”

“H-he did this to you?” Eddie’s jaw clenched in an instant, and he tried his best not to react, trying not to show you how he could feel his blood practically boiling, you’d been through enough, you didn’t need to deal with calming him down now, too.

“No, no, it was just a little accident. It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes, it fucking does!”

“No, it doesn’t!” Frustrated, you spat back, a bit of your pent-up anger lashing out at Eddie.

“I’m going to kill that asshole,” He scowled, rising to his feet, eyes spitting fire and you were quick to have a strong hold on his arm. “N-no! Please.” You whispered, the desperation in your voice slicing through the tension. Your touch brings him back to the present, reminding him that you matter more than his impulsive reactions.

Eddie stopped with a sigh of breath, gaze returning to you, and you nervously licked your lips fingers combing through your hair to gather your thoughts. “Look, Eddie, I-I just needed to see you, I just needed to feel normal for a moment, please, not now.” Your gaze was sympathetic, you looked so hurt that Eddie’s brows scrunched in pain.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, about to tell you that he could protect you, but your brows furrowed, and that teary-eyed look returned on your face. “Please,” Desperate, tugging on his arm, and he had no choice but to nod. He could deal with this later.

“O-okay,” he muttered, meekly, swallowing the lump in his throat. His stomach churned in pain and anger when he realized that bastard actually fucking hurt you. And you really thought it was all okay…

“What do you need, honey?” Sickeningly sweet tone was back again, and it warmed you up, removing the coldness that sat on your chest.

“A hug…” You muttered, “and maybe a joint.”

That brought an unintentional grin to both of your faces. “C’mere.” He whispered, arms quick to wrap around you, holding you close. The subtle sway of his body rocked you in the promise that you were not alone, his gaze filled with concern and you couldn’t help but melt into him when he pressed a kiss onto your hair.

Too engulfed, too distracted to realize someone almost sprinting toward the two of you. Before you could process the approaching figure, a voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “You didn’t kiss him? Bullshit!”

Confusion etched across your face as Eddie's protective arms tightened around you. “What the hell are you—”

Billy, possibly fueled by alcohol, swaggered toward you both with an air of aggression. “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”

The scent of alcohol wafted from Billy, and Eddie’s unbridled rage was now on the surface, he wore a scowl, eyes daggering through Billy. His hand protectively remained on your hips, gently pulling you aside. You tried to look at him, silently pleaded that you didn’t want this, that you didn’t need him to do this. But it was no fucking use.

“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, dipshit.”

“Stay the fuck out of this, freak.” He ignored Eddie, rage now full on display as he fully turned toward you.

“What, you gonna deny it, or no?” Caught in a crossfire, you felt a surge of panic, and just as you were about to speak, Eddie did it for you.

“No, she’s not gonna fuckin’ deny it.” Your eyes widened, blinking rapidly to process what Eddie just confessed to.

“Eddie—” You tried but again, no use, Eddie took a step closer to him.

“We did kiss.” A smirk played on his lips, he was doing it on purpose, he wanted to get Billy to punch him.

“I fucking kissed her, asshole.” Shit, you internally cursed at him.

The tension thickened, you could see it in the ticking jaw and bulging vein on Billy's neck. He moved forward, poised to strike at Eddie. “You have the nerve you fuckin’ freak!” He stepped forward, attempting to get at him.

You acted quick, acting as a shield to Eddie, you didn’t care, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of you. You couldn’t handle that.

“Billy, don’t!” Your desperate plea was drowned out by the pounding music and the escalating chaos. Despite your efforts, Billy's aggression only intensified. A forceful push sent you sprawling to the unforgiving ground. Tiny rocks bit into your palms, and your knees scraped against the abrasive cement.

The impact on the ground sent a shockwave of pain through your body, a groan escaping your lips at the pain. Your world spun harder, you didn’t even know what to focus on first; the throbbing bruise on your cheek, Billy's kiss with Chrissy, the haze of your drunkenness, or the startling fact that Billy had pushed you to the ground. All of it made you dizzy.

You could barely blink when Eddie knocked Billy out cold, with three well-aimed punches, lunging at him the moment he laid hands on you, your gaze narrowed to make sure you saw it correctly.

Eddie was fine. Eddie was okay.

“Sweetheart, oh my god.” Eddie's voice cut through the haze, his worried tone a soothing balm. With a gentle scoop, he lifted you to your feet.

You didn’t want to be there when Billy woke up, some drunk idiot could help him. Or Chrissy would, for all you cared. And as if Eddie understood you, he quickly helped you move away from the scene, guiding you towards the row of parked cars, away from everything.

Once you were at a safer distance, Eddie tried to hold you, face etched in concern, as he ventured to ask, “You doing okay?”

The scowl you wore was anything but, “Why did you do that?!?” The words spat from your lips surprised him.

“Excuse me?” Eddie responded, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yo-you shouldn’t have told him!” Worry was etched all over your face, Eddie didn’t realize the consequences of what he did would have, but you did, oh, you did.

“D-do you realize what you just fucking did?” You wanted to cry, or you were already crying, you couldn’t tell when your cheeks were wet already.

“I—”

You interrupted him. “I-I don’t need this, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset—”

“I’m not upset!” Your scowl deepened, face flushed with frustration.

He tried to reach closer, tried to help you but you refused. “Don’t- just don’t!”

“I-I don’t need to be saved or protected, okay?” Your lips wobbled, “just l-leave me alone, Eddie.”

“What?” His face fell, lips downturned, as he struggled to comprehend your sudden detachment.

“Leave me alone, I-I can take care of myself!” You begged, but that anger sank on your chest, it made you bitter, made you want to close up entirely.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” He spat, hands ruffling through his hair in anger. He took a step closer to you, stomach churning with the need to hold you.

“Pinky don’t you fucking see it? I care about you, you’re the only thing I care about in this goddamn world! How the fuck do you expect me to leave when you’re hurt?” His voice cracked, and your gaze softened with it.

“How do you expect me to not beat the shit out of that fucking asshole for doing that to you?” The raw emotion in his voice was enough to pierce through your defenses, making your heartache.

“I get it, I get that you’re tough, but shit—”

“I can’t just sit and watch you get hurt… I can’t.” The truth in his words hung heavy in the air, it was almost like a shift between the two of you, like the barrier finally dissipating, so that the true feelings would prevail.

Yet, despite that you pushed back, your own stubbornness overtaking you. “But I want you to leave me alone!”

You knew your words were nothing but a lie, you needed someone, him specifically. Sure, you had always been tough, but this? This was too much. And you knew he was the only one who could make you feel better, yet like an idiot, you pushed him away. That’s all you were good at, wasn’t it?

Your tears came back when you saw his face, defeated, all because of you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He deserved better, he shouldn’t be roped up in this mess. You had to push him away, you fucking had to.

He didn’t do anything but look at you. Really, really looked at you.

And you looked a mess, hair disheveled, mascara running down your cheeks, bruises on your arm, knees scrapped, lip wobbling, and you could barely stand. The worst possible condition he saw you in.

He knew what you were doing, you were pushing him away because you were afraid. A move, he always pulled, a move he was good at until he met you. He understood you, possibly in a way no one ever could.

Eddie, undeterred, stepped closer to you with a calm determination. Your head snapped up at the movement, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration.

“No.” He muttered.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“But—”

“No but’s, wear your jacket, I’m taking you home.” His tone was clear, not harsh, not soft either. Just letting you know that he was here, he was always going to be here and he was not leaving, even if you tried so hard to make him.

“I-I don’t think I wanna go home.” You muttered.

“My place?” You nod softly.

You don’t know why it caused you to break down again, but it did, tears were your friend and they were overspilling faster than you intended them to. His arms opened up instinctively and you didn’t hesitate to let him engulf you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured between sobs, the words catching in your throat. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean it, ‘m so sorry, sorry, so—” Hiccups interrupted your apologies, but Eddie hushed you gently, his presence making you feel at ease.

“I know, I know…” he cooed, hand ghosting over your back, the hold he had on you tight enough to let you know that you were safe. “It’s okay, honey.” He reassured. The sweet name had your heart beat faster once you looked up at him.

“I-I didn’t mean it.” You stammered all teary-eyed, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his chest tightened, you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to cry. He was going to make sure you were okay.

“Hey, hey, I know.” He cooed softly, gently caressing your face.

“P-please, don’t leave.” Your tone framed the words so gut-wrenchingly painful that Eddie ached, his heart broke a million times, over and over, pieces to pieces.

“Never.”

“I’d never leave you.”

NOW STEVE'S BRUNCH.

With the missing pieces of the puzzle finally being revealed to Eddie, that memory was what he replayed in his head, over and over, until he finally couldn’t handle the way Steve reassured you, hand on your waist as he told you idiotic jokes.

He couldn’t shake off it, he shouldn’t just leave it like this. He should fight for you, he should do something. His hand was quick to fish out the notebook, his eyes scanned through it to find the perfect note, maybe, this would help you realize that he had always been there for you. A feeble attempt, but he didn’t have any other choice, you didn’t want to talk to him, so he just slipped the note to Jonathan and left.

You watched him leave, a scowl on your face, heart aching when he didn’t even utter a goodbye to you. It was hypocritical, considering that you had asked him not to acknowledge you, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help yourself when it came to him.

Hours had passed since that moment and you had apologized to Jonathan and Nancy a hundred times by now, but they shrugged it off without a care. God, you really didn’t deserve them, did you?

And everything was going finally back to normal. Sipping the cocktails and munching on the amazing pancakes Steve had made everyone, and dabbling your feet in the water as laughter was all that surrounded the group.

This was what it should’ve been, all of you, and Eddie. If he hadn’t brought her.

But of course, all the bliss disappeared once Steve decided to bring it up again.

“So… how do you feel?” You threw him a glare, splashing some of the chlorine-filled water directly at his hair.

“Jesus, not the fucking hair!” He groaned, ruffling it with his daggering glare thrown at you. “Now you have to tell me!” He insisted, shoulder nudging yours.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you muttered, facing away from him as you felt everyone eyeing you.

“Maybe, we should.” Jonathan chimed in, making you furrow your brows.

“What does that mean?” Steve replied before you did.

With a sigh, Jonathan extended a rustled paper, and you immediately recognized what it was, “He said he wanted me to give this to you.”

“A note? So brave of him,” Steve mocked with a roll of his eyes, groaning when Nancy elbowed him.

Robin hid her giggle with her hand, and Nancy threw her an icy glare, shutting both of them up.

Your brows furrowed in disbelief, lips kissing your teeth as you snatched it out of his hand. “Oh, he did?” You didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it was pissing you off at this point.

He didn’t utter a single word to you. And now he didn’t even have the decency to give you this?

Steve was right.

Why was he being a fucking coward?

You were quick to get up from the side of the pool, plopping onto the nearest chair to read the contents.

You could feel their eyes on you but they were quick to hide it, going back to their chatter.

“When she gave me this, I never thought I’d actually end up writing in it for anything other than lyrics. Some ideas. But ever since we kissed, I can’t stop or control my thoughts, it’s been nonstop flowing and this is the only way I can express it. The only thing to make me feel sane, to make it seem like it really was real. My mouth hasn’t shut up about her since she kissed it, my thoughts haven’t been okay ever since I saw the curl of her lips right after she kissed me. I know how hard it is for her, I know how much she struggles with that dipshit who doesn't deserve her. But it doesn’t matter, now. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if she asks me to. I’ll do anything if she asks me to.”

You turned the note over, nothing else was written, with your brows pinched together angrily, you smushed it into your pocket, ignoring the protests of everyone while you jumped into your car in a hurry.

What the fuck was he thinking giving you this?

What the fuck was his problem?

If he wanted you, why couldn’t he just tell you?

And if so, why did he even bring Chrissy?

It wasn’t long till you made it to Eddie’s trailer, and with your harsh knocks, it wasn’t long till Eddie opened it.

“Jesus Christ—” His words fell in the air at the sight of you, eyes widening.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled, lines on your forehead deepening into a frown as you held up the note in his face.

“You didn’t utter a single word to me, and you’re just giving this note to Jonathan?” He stammered, mouth unable to find the words to speak, not really expecting you to confront him like this.

“Why don’t you just say it to my fucking face?”

“I would, if you weren’t so busy.”

Your brows pinched together, “excuse me?”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” He asked.

“Y-you tell me not to speak with you! You tell me that we shouldn’t ever see each other again, then you leave with Steve and somehow I’m the problem?” He said, exasperated.

Was he… jealous? Of Steve?

“No, the problem is you being a coward!” You raised your voice, hand pressing the note to his chest dramatically.

“You think I’m a coward? I’m the furthest fucking thing from it, and you know that.”

“You think a coward would put everything aside for you? You think a coward would run away with you?”

“O-okay, okay!” You want him to stop speaking, because you know he’s right, he wasn’t a coward, at least when it came to that. But he was a coward when it came to his feelings, and maybe it wouldn’t have pissed you off this much if you weren’t one too.

The two of you were dancing around what you actually needed to talk about, feelings, and it was getting ridiculous at this point, because neither of you could pull away, no matter how many times you said you would. He pulled you in, and you pulled him in.

“I fucked up, I did. But don’t ever act like I’m the one who ran away when things got too hard, okay?” He leaned further on the door frame, face inches away from yours, it made your breath hitch, heart thumping inside of your ribcage.

Your words meshed together when your gaze stooped on his lips. He was close, so close, and he occupied your mind. “H-How did we even go back to this? It’s like we’re moving around in a stupid fucking circle and—” You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts.

“I told you I didn’t want to do this back and forth with you and here we are again!” It was frustrating, everything with him was frustrating, but you couldn’t stay away from him, how could you?

Those five years had been hell.

“Are you kidding?” His words were dripping with irritation, “You came to my door! Started screaming in my face and waving notes!”

“I only did it because you were too much of a fucking coward to give me the note!” Now it was fully getting ridiculous, arguments turning into a bickering old couple.

“I told you I’m not a coward—” He defended.

You interrupted with, “Fine, fine! You are not a coward whatever!”

“What you are is fucking infuriating!” You spat, taking a step closer to him.

“Infuriating? You started this!” He fueled it, mirroring your steps, one more step from either of you, and his lips would be pressed onto yours.

“Oh, so I kissed Chrissy?” You scoffed, arms crossed against your chest.

“Jesus, that’s not what I meant!” He almost groaned, frustrated.

“You want me to prove it to you? You want me to tell you how much I messed up? I’ll fucking do it.”

There was that tension between the two of you again, it wasn’t filled with hatred in the slightest, but there was so much unresolved shit that it might as well suffocate you if Eddie stepped any closer, it ached, making a way to your heart.

Three hours ago you wanted him out of your life, for good. Now, all you wanted to do was see him prove himself to you, it was stupid, psychotic, and maybe a little selfish. But you couldn’t help yourself when it’s him.

“You will?” You stammered, you didn’t fully know what that meant, but it was somehow making your heart jump knowing that maybe the notes still meant something. Maybe, just maybe he wanted you, still. Your forehead relaxed, and lips itched to curl into a smile.

And of fucking course, Eddie caught it. “Yes.” He said, all smugly, making you want to roll your eyes.

“G-good, uh, until then, I-I mean it, I don’t want to see you.” You shifted uncomfortably in your place, fully realizing how close he was to you, and it somehow brought confidence to Eddie.

He tssked, “Then you probably shouldn’t come to my door, then.” His nose scrunched sarcastically, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Munson.” You warned.

“Pinky?”

“You really are infuriating.”

“Am I?” He tilted his head all adorably.

“Yes.”

“See you tonight, sweetheart.” He winked.

And you groaned with that, flipping him off while you hurried back to your car.

He closed the door with an amused smile, his nose scrunching as he replayed the conversation in his head.

“So you two good now?” Wayne’s grouchy tone almost had Eddie jump in place.

“Jesus Christ, Wayne! Were you just eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“What? You said y’all had the worst fight of your lives, that don’t seem like it to me.” He shrugged.

“We did— but uh, I don’t know, I just don’t know what the actual fuck is going with us, I thought I was dead to her but then she just barges in—”

“She cares about you, Eddie.” Wayne sighed.

“I know that girl like the palm of my hand, if you were dead to her, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you, just her bein’ a big fireball shows she still cares.”

Eddie sighed, “But she said—”

“Hell to what she said! Both of y’all are idiots when it comes to this, you go prove to her that you’re sorry, tell her how you feel and then you can thank me.” He exclaimed.

“But—”

“Boy, do what I told you, apologize to that sweet girl, and make sure you do it until she forgives you.” Eddie threw a look at Wayne.

And Wayne dismissed it with his finger pointing at him, “I mean it, Eddie, after all the shit you told me about what that little blondie did to my Pinky, you should be on your knees beggin’!”

“Okay, okay!” Eddie admitted the defeat.

“Jesus, old man, it wouldn’t hurt for you to just take your nephew’s side once in a while, would it?” He mocked dramatically.

He threw a daggering look at Eddie, “Fine, fine, I’ll apologize.” Wayne narrowed his gaze. “A proper apology.” Eddie muttered, almost embarrased. “And?” Wayne raised his brows. Eddie groaned loudly, “and I’ll tell her how I feel.”

✦ final authors note — okay i promise the next two chapters are going to be less angst-filled (like gonna be worth the wait i promiseee) 🤭 and yes the note was inspired by alex turner's letter to alexa chung okay!! reading that at like 13 altered my brain chemistry a LOT. anyway like i said pls leave some feedback i swear it motivates me a LOTTT. thank u for reading ilyy💗

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #getaway car #getaway car series

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aernx · 1 year ago

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꒰ 💭 ꒱ OH, NIKI YOU’RE SO FINE! ˖ ⌨︎ ⁩◞❪니키❫

— 35 ! you’ll always be my winner

⚠️ super important note below no skip allowed 🙅🏻‍♀️

OH, NIKI YOU’RE SO FINE! — CHP THIRTY-THREE

𖥻 masterlist ⟲ prev | next ⟳

aerin’s notes ☆

guys this is it…it’s the end. STOP IM ACC GOING TO CRY RN 😭😭😭 this is my very first time completing a smau so i’m vv srry if the ending felt kinda rushed but thanku so so so much for u guys that hav enjoyed this smau 🙁 ty for those of u guys that hav stuck through this smau, i literally love u guys so so much bc i can’t believe u stuck thru all this even tho it has many plotholes n disappearing chars LMAO. i rlly hope u guys enjoy the smau, n if u rlly like it u can recommend this smau to ur friends bc we’re so close to 2k notes‼️‼️ tysm guys and for the likes, comments n reblogs. u guys always find a way to make me smile n laugh from all of ur reactions bc every night i post a chp, i’ll always be waiting for u guy’s reactions in the morning when i wake up 🤩🤩 once again, thankuu so so much guys, i hope i’ll see u all in the hee spinoff: it’s a wrap! (ft. our favorite pretty couple) i’ll try my best to improve my writing n avoid plotholes in this one! and as for new readers of this smau, i hope u guys enjoy binge reading it <33 i hope u enjoyed this smau ask much as i enjoyed writing it. lemme know ur overall thoughts in the comments!! byebye guys ilu smm. - with all the love, aerin xx

TAGLIST. closed

@roseyrays @itsactuallylina @1-800shutthefuckup @belovedxiao @luvistqrzzz @yanagisprettygf @yunicide @anyavaramyr @ghostiiess @catryu @ixomiyu @maerijw @txtmetonight @jaehaki @be0m9yu @kpop1sworld @astrae4 @whippedforbeomgyu @pkjay @j-wyoung @kazmura @bekiss-world @run2seob @haechansbbg @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @ihrtnrk @rreynca @gyubeari @iea-tsand @l0ve-joy @maybemiko @strwberrydinosaur @beomgyusonlywife @yumilovesloona @miko1ly @gyurtl @momsheaa @leiluvs @rikimylove @myknifeyourlife @r1k1slvr

nets : @enhanet @hyfenet

#enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #niki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen niki #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen riki #enha smau #enha x reader #riki smau

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chrissturniolospepsi · 3 months ago

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sleepy daze || chris sturniolo x reader

|| SMUT!! || sexual nicknames || teasing || chris is on stream when y/n needs him || really short fic srry! || (lowercase intended) || happy reading! || 🤗🤍

“guys, please leave me alone with the y/n questions, she is peacefully sleeping right now.” chris says, waving his hands around as he speaks.

chris thought you were fast asleep, but there you were lying in bed staring at the ceiling blankly.

groaning slightly, you get up and pull down your hoodie, since it was riding up above your waist, revealing your lace panties.

you then hesitantly walk over to chris’ room, knocking before going in just in case he was doing something that he didn’t want you to see.

you don’t get an answer in return, and you slowly open the door. “chris..” you whine out, making him look at you above his computer. “yes princess?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“i cant sleep ..” you groan out, hunching your back and walking over to him. “can you help me?” you strain out as you straddle his lap.

“of course princess, im almost done stream.” he says while petting your hair slowly. “no, right now chrissy, please?” you say, slowly grinding against the tent that is building. “sure cutie, let me end stream first.” “m’kay.. thank you da-“ you cut yourself off while realizing what you were about to call him.

he raises a brow and smirks before saying, “alright chat, y/n wants me to go lay with her so I’ll see you all soon! have a great night!”

“chris!” you gasp as he grabs your hips tightly. “be a good little girl for me, m’kay?” he says, picking you up and bringing you to your shared bedroom.

“fuck baby..” you scream out as he rubs your clit through your undies. “look how adorable you are, my princess. such a pretty girl for me.”

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut

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rotworld · 1 month ago

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3: Long Goodbye

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

your friend garrett went missing almost a year ago. when he mysteriously reappears asking to meet up again, you're expecting answers. what you get is much worse.

original work. suggestive but not explicit. contains non-consensual touching, blood drinking, emotional manipulation, hypnosis, gore, implied kidnapping.

You miss the first call.

The train home is crowded. It’s one of those dreary days where the rain feels like knives, falling cold and half-frozen in heavy sheets. Harrow Creek’s staggered silhouettes come and go like a mirage through the foggy haze, an anachronistic chimera of a city with thorns of Neo-Gothic rooftops and scalloped Art Deco skyscrapers, blunt and brutal modernism filling newer valleys of construction. Bright lights and billboards wink past the windows. On nights like this, you used to meet up with friends at an all-night cafe, commiserating over hot drinks and a shared plate of hot, buttery pastries.

It rings once. Twice. You don’t know the number on the screen so you slide it back into your pocket and watch the city pass by in gray-blue melancholy and golden smears of streetlamps. It buzzes, ignored. It goes to voicemail. Your stop is next. All you want to do is curl up in bed and not think about anything. Every signpost, stoplight and utility pole on the long uphill walk to your apartment building is papered with crumpled, peeling posters, faded and weather-beaten.

“MISSING” they say in bold above a smiling face. Short brown hair. Hazel eyes. A flash of checkered red and black at the bottom from his favorite scarf. “PLEASE CALL IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION.”

You miss the second call. You’re peeling off a soggy sweatshirt and kicking off waterlogged shoes. You need to eat something but you don’t feel hungry, just empty. On the news, they’re saying there’ll be rain tomorrow, too. You shove something in the microwave and watch it spin, checking your messages just for something to do. Someone asks about trading shifts. Someone asks if you’re doing alright. A chime, and then a new message pops up. Unknown number.

“its me,” it says.

Another chime and then another, and another, coming so quickly your phone can’t finish the notification sound before it interrupts itself with a new one.

“still alive.”

“srry.”

“plz pick up.”

“im in trouble.”

You’ve never hit the “call” button so fast.

He doesn’t answer right away and you pace, your heart racing, listening to the sluggish one-note ringing with growing panic. It’s him, isn’t it? It has to be. That’s how he texts, one rapidfire thought at a time. But what happened? Where is he? Why the new number? Is he with someone? Is he safe? He said he’s in trouble. Was that him before, those calls you didn’t answer? You’re starting to spiral when the ringing suddenly stops.

Silence. A shaky exhale through static. Someone starts to speak and then stops themselves. Takes a deep breath. Starts over. “H…hey. Hi. I’m…I wanted to talk to you.”

It’s him. You have to lean against the kitchen counter, your knees buckling. “Garrett?” you say, quiet, hoarse and hopeful. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” He doesn’t sound okay. Garrett is the social butterfly of your friend group. He’s a smoothtalker, a good listener, the kind of guy everyone knows and likes and owes a beer. And he’s unflappable, too confident to lose his cool, too unbothered by insults to pick a fight. He’s a safe harbor in the insular cliques of Harrow Creek’s nightlife. He’s your best friend. You hear him sniff and clear his throat, a long pause before he tries again. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t…I couldn’t call before. They’re strict about…” He stops abruptly. Another inhale, pause, exhale. “Can we meet up?”

It’s eleven at night and you’re a cold, tired mess. “Yes,” you say without hesitation. You beg him not to hang up while you change out of your wet work clothes into something warmer and he sounds uneasy. He mutters something that comes through muffled, away from the receiver, and a different voice says something indistinct. “Should I bring someone? Harley’s probably still up.”

“No,” Garrett says quickly. “Just. Just you, please. You’re the only one I called. I can’t…I’m not even supposed to…”

“Just me,” you assure him. There are a million more things you want to ask but he talks to whoever’s with him again in that small, scared tone and you know you won’t get answers. “Where should I meet you?”

“Thank you.”

Those two words make your chest feel tight and aching. That’s the Garrett you know. The smile you can hear. The quiet relief. He’d sounded so begrudged and exasperated when you offered to bring him cough syrup and tissues that time he got sick, but he met you at the door with and promised to pay you back, looking at you like you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. He always took care of everyone else. He wasn’t used to being taken care of.

“No problem,” you say, swiping a hand across your face.

“Have you heard of Betwixt? It’s a bar on the east side, right next to the movie theater and the Italian place.” Another pause. Another murmur from someone you don’t know. “I gotta go. I’ll meet you there in a bit. Just you, please. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain everything, but it has to be you.”

You throw your coat back on. Different shoes. Remember your umbrella this time. You take the stairs two at a time, throw yourself back into the cold and rush down the same street you just trudged up. East side, he said. Movie theater. Pizza place. You’re not over there much so you look it up online. A couple train stops later and you’re in an old part of town, the streets wide for trolleys that don’t run anymore. The buildings are red and brown brick, the rooftops prickly with chimneys and jagged spires, hunched gargoyles leering over the edge. The streetlights don’t seem as bright, all burnt orange and eerie.

The map on your phone says you’ve arrived as you stand in front of a stone archway with double doors set further inside. A vintage sign hangs overhead, painted wood dangling from a decorative metal pole. “Betwixt” is printed in curling, golden letters on a black background. From here, it looks more like a classy, upscale restaurant than a bar, candlelight glimmering on the other side of the glass. You push the door open. The heat is on inside.

Wooden floorboards creak under your footsteps. It’s dark. More than ambience, the candles are the only source of light. You can’t see much but you can hear lively conversation, the scrape of chairs and the clink of glasses. You glimpse an eclectic collection of framed photographs on the walls; portraits and landscapes, city vistas and mountaintop views. There are a few small tables scattered around and a row of booths against the wall, candlelight gleaming on leather upholstery. A couple in the back presses close in a booth, hands wandering. You hear a giggle as one of them caresses the other’s cheek. Traces their jaw. Runs one fingers down the side of their neck and whispers something that makes them shudder. Eyes glint in the dark like a wolf’s caught in headlights and you step back quickly.

“Excuse me,” someone mutters, touching your shoulder to guide you out of the way. But they stop suddenly, turning around to look at you.

Not Garrett. He’s too tall, shoulders too broad. Hands in the pockets of a leather jacket, he tilts his head and looks you up and down with obvious interest and a widening smile. You try to get past him and he steps in your way.

“Hey. You wearing red?” he asks, his tone flirtatious.

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. You don’t know what he’s talking about but you don’t think it’s any of your business. “I’m meeting somebody here.” You take another step back, nervous. You see more animalistic eye shine, the glint of unwanted predatory attention. Your pulse quickens. You’re definitely not supposed to be here. Why didn’t Garrett warn you?

“Yeah? I can keep you company ‘till then.” The man takes a step closer. “Is this your first time? It’s alright. Don’t have to be nervous. You could practice with me, if you want. I’ll be gentle.”

You back into someone. A hand grips your shoulder, keeping you still. “This one’s mine,” you hear, the words low and angry. Your heart lurches in your chest. You know that voice. The man in front of you scowls, shrugs, and stalks off towards the bar in the back. You turn around and see what you stopped hoping you’d ever see again, lightheaded with overwhelming, conflicting emotions.

It’s him. You know it is. It doesn’t matter that half of his face is concealed, a mask over his nose and mouth. It’s stiff, not flimsy fabric but something firmer. Those are his eyes, wide and astonished with tears bubbling up along the lower lid. That’s his voice, slightly muffled, saying, “Sorry. Uh. Hope you weren’t waiting too long. You wanna sit down?”

You look around nervously. A few people are staring. You can tell because you can see their eyes, wolf-like and glinting in the dark. “Could we step outside? I don’t think this bar is for, uh…” You don’t finish the thought. It doesn’t matter if you whisper. They’ll all hear you.

“Humans?” Garrett says. Chuckling, like this is funny somehow. “No, it is. It’s for everyone. That’s why I picked it. So we could both…” You look at Garrett and he looks back at you, something desperate in his gaze. “Please don’t go,” he says, his voice quivering.

“I won’t,” you assure him. You don’t know what else to do, so you step forward to wrap your arms around him. Garrett nearly knocks you over when he hugs you back, surging forward, meeting you halfway and more. He squeezes so hard that it hurts but you don’t say anything because he’s shaking, breathing heavily against your shoulder. He buries his face against the side of your head, the thick material of his mask nudging against your nose and your jaw. He nuzzles into your neck. He growls. When you go rigid in his arms, he pulls away like you burned him, squeezing his eyes shut. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes deep, steadying breaths. In for five. Hold for five. Out for five. He does it over and over until the tremors stop.

“Okay,” he says finally, opening his eyes. “Okay. Sorry. I’ve got it under control, I promise.”

“We need to talk about this,” you tell him as gently as you can.

He looks at the floor guiltily. He nods.

Garrett leads you to a booth in the back. The chair that shares the same table is already occupied. A stranger sits there with a notebook open on the table, pen in hand, scribbling something. He doesn’t look up when Garrett slides into the booth across from him. He’s not dressed for the weather, just a thin tank top under a jacket falling halfway off his shoulders. He has long hair, bleach white, the ends dyed blue. Both arms are tattooed from the shoulders to the backs of his hands. You don’t sit down and Garrett looks nervously from you to the stranger and back again. He doesn’t look afraid of him, you think. More like he’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Virgilio,” the stranger introduces himself, still not looking at you. You can’t read the page in front of him but there are notes of some kind, something that looks like a list. He’s doodling in the margins. “Just supervising. Don’t mind me.” The other voice on the phone wasn’t clear enough to hear, but it sounded close to his. Deep and gravelly.

“I’ve been staying with him,” Garrett admits. His eyes are pleading. He scoots over further, leaving plenty of room for you in the booth next to him.

Reluctantly, you sit down. “You said you were in trouble.”

“I was. I still am, I guess. It’s complicated.” Garrett rests his hands on the table and they fidget restlessly. His fingers have been picked raw in places, pink underlayers of skin and newly-healed scabs surrounding his nails. You set your hand next to his, palm up, offering. Garrett grips it immediately. He laces your fingers together and holds on tight. “You remember I was going on that trip? Flying out to see Nate, hang out for the weekend?”

You nod. You remember. That’s the trip he didn’t come back from. Nobody’s heard from Nate since, either.

“That’s when it happened. We were going out for drinks. It was some place with live music and…” Garrett rubs his face. “I can’t. I can’t say it. Can you please…?”

Virgilio stops writing. He hooks his pen into the notebook’s spiral metal spine and actually looks at you for the first time, studying your face, glancing up and down. His stare makes you uncomfortable. It feels like he’s looking through you rather than at you. “What do you know about nightbound?” he asks.

You knew where this was going—knew the moment you saw reflective eyes staring back at you in the dark—but the word still makes your pulse pick up. “Not much,” you admit. That they exist and that it’s what they call themselves. You don’t know when or why ‘vampire’ became a dirty word.

Virgilio nods. He doesn’t look surprised. “Garrett is the victim of an unauthorized turning.” He speaks slowly and clearly, the words unauthorized turning enunciated so there’s no misunderstanding. “It was traditionalist dissenters. That means people who don’t respect Council authority, running their own compound in the middle of nowhere and grabbing whoever they wanted off the streets. It’s my understanding that Garrett was taken with four others from a music venue, but he’s the only survivor of his clutch. Two didn’t survive turning. They had the other…” He pauses, studying your horrified expression with a slight tilt of the head. The gesture strikes you as animalistic. Bird-like and curious. “Well, they were traditionalists. They only want one per clutch, and it’s up to the hatchlings to see who makes the cut.”

Garrett squeezes your hand. He avoids your eyes. “Right,” he says hoarsely.

“Why is he in trouble?” you ask. “It’s not his fault this happened to him. He shouldn’t be punished for it.”

Virgilio leans back, throwing one arm over the back of the chair. He regards you with renewed interest, his head tilting the other way now, frowning like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “He’s not in trouble for getting turned. The problem is his appetite. Traditionalists aren’t big on restraint. He’s been taught to gorge himself whenever he’s hungry, and we get a hunger response every time we catch a whiff of a human on the breeze.”

“I’m getting better,” Garrett insists. He sneaks a look at you out of the corner of his eye but quickly looks away as though ashamed.

Virgilio nods. “It’s true. He’s come a long way in just a few months. But that’s why he can’t call anyone. They’d want to see him to make sure he’s alright, he’d smell them, and it’d get messy. Well, that and the Council wants him to focus on acclimation. Hatchlings do better in the long run if they start over. Make new friends.”

“New friends?” you repeat, your voice thin. “So he’s just supposed to cut us off? Let us all think he’s dead?”

“No,” Garrett insists. “No, no, it’s not like that, it’s more like…like a precautionary—”

“Yes,” Virgilio says.

You look at Garrett, his shoulders drawn up, trying to disappear into his seat, and Virgilio staring at you both across the table. “But he called me,” you say.

“I let him call you,” Virgilio corrects.

“Why?”

“Well…” He drums his inked fingers on the table over his notebook, humming thoughtfully. “How do I put this…there’s an exception. He gets to keep someone from his old life under very specific extenuating circumstances. You happen to fit all the criteria.” Virgilio pauses. He looks at Garrett. Inclines his head towards you. “Go on,” he drawls.

“Right. So.” Garrett steadies himself with a breath. “Feeding is, uh…it’s. Really intense. And emotional. So if you’re going to do it, you know, not just from a bag but from a person, from…” He stops, stroking your thumb with his. “If you’re going to do it, it should be with someone you know and trust. Who trusts you, too. That’s how it’s supposed to be. And you’re…I mean, we weren’t…I never got to ask…”

“Garrett,” Virgilio says, sounding impatient.

Garrett tugs at your hand gently. He brings it up to his mask, pressing it against the inside of your wrist. “I want to feed on you,” he says. His voice is hoarse. His eyes half-lidded and nearly black, pupils fully dilated. “Please. Please let me feed on you.”

“You’d have to move in,” Virgilio adds, rubbing his chin. “It’s just standard procedure. I have Garrett feeding often, but on much smaller amounts. A sip here and there. And it’s not a bad gig, you know. The Council will do just about anything to keep you comfortable. You’d be doing us a favor, after all.”

They both stare at you expectantly and it makes you feel like cornered prey. Gently, trying not to upset him, you tug your hand out of Garrett’s grasp. “Can I have some time to think about it?” you say carefully. Garrett’s shoulders sag in disappointment. Virgilio frowns. “It’s just…it’s a lot. All of this. I want to help Garrett. I don’t want to lose him. But I have to figure some things out if I’m going to move.” You have to tell someone. Your friends. His family. The authorities. The nightbound must have their own government—that “Council” Virgilio keeps mentioning—but you don’t trust them. Nothing about this sits right with you.

“Sorry,” Garrett mumbles.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assure him, shifting away as discreetly as you can. “None of this is your fault, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Another small, subtle scoot back, but you don’t get far. Someone slipped into the booth behind you. Panicked, you turn around and find Virgilio sitting far too close, one of his hands seizing your arm and the other grabbing your jaw. When did he get up? You didn’t see or hear him move.

“I couldn’t do it,” Garrett says miserably.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Virgilio grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting your face higher to meet his cold gaze. His eyes are gold. Bright and glittering, speckled with flecks of amber and paler yellow. Your struggles to get away from him are hampered by his eyes and just how pretty they are. How nice they are to look at. How easy it is to lose yourself in them. Like autumn leaves. Like honey. Warm. Gentle. Comforting. Gold.

You feel so tired. What were you doing earlier? And why?

“It takes practice,” Virgilio says. “You probably wouldn’t be able to maintain it very well. It’s another thing we can work on later.” He sounds faraway. Echoing. He never looks away. He doesn’t even blink. Your eyelids flutter but they don’t shut completely. You don’t want to lose sight of him. “Don’t feel bad. You tried asking. If they want to be mad at someone, they can be mad at the Council. Here, hold onto them. It’s fine. They’re under.”

Virgilio pushes on your shoulder, urging you to lie back. You’re in Garrett’s arms now, leaning against his chest. It feels nice to be here. Nice to be between the two of them. You look up at Garrett and his eyes are pretty, too.

“You can take the outer layer off,” Virgilio says. “Just the outer layer.”

Garrett nods feverishly. He pinches the edge of his mask and something shifts. There’s a shrill, sticky sound like velcro. The mask comes apart, a thick panel of leather peeling off. Garret sets it on the table and you see him better now, nose and lips and the way he’s panting, but there’s still something on his face. Dark lines. Bars. Metal? The frame of the mask is still hooked over his ears.

It looks like a muzzle.

“Take a breath,” Virgilio reminds him.

Garrett listens. You see his lips part. A tongue, darting out to moisten them. A flash of fangs. He holds you close as he tugs your jacket down, pulls the neckline of your shirt to the side, and leans in. The muzzle digs into your neck. You hear Garrett suck in a deep breath. He shivers. His breath comes in hot, humid puffs against your skin. Saliva drips through the muzzle, his tongue desperately pressed against the metal trying to reach you.

“Garrett.”

“I know. I know.” He pulls himself away like it physically pains him to do so, groaning, biting his lip. “Fuck, I can’t…I need them so bad.”

“Look at me. You’re doing fine. I’ll stop you if I have to, but I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were ready. I’m going to unlock your muzzle.”

You feel your stomach twist. A twinge of fear sours that sweet, floaty feeling making everything soft and nice. Something’s wrong here, isn’t it? Something is very wrong. You were trying to leave. Why were you trying to leave? You hear a chair scrape the floor. Footsteps. It’s all muffled and dreamlike, impossible to focus on. Your head lolls back and you’re staring at the ceiling. Where are you? Smells like beer. Like blood. There’s a loud metallic clatter and then a hand against your neck. Shaky fingers. A loving caress.

“Just like we practiced,” Virgilio whispers. The hand on your shoulder tightens. A warm, wet mouth presses against the side of your neck and you remember suddenly, the realization like ice water down your back. It’s too late. You see Virgilio looming over both of you, standing beside the booth. He tilts his head. Smirks at you. Garrett bites down.

You’ve never felt pain quite like this. There’s the sharpness, daggerpoints sinking into your skin hard and deep enough that blood gushes out of the wounds, and a spreading heat like your veins are igniting. It’s not a nice, neat incision, not just two little pinpricks. His jaw clamps shut and all of his teeth are crunching through flesh and delicate soft tissue. There’s the arrhythmic agony of Garrett’s tongue pressing at the wound in short kitten licks and the greediness of his mouth, harsh suction that pulls and drags at delicate things under your skin. Garrett moans against your skin and you scream when he pulls and tugs and finally wrenches his teeth out of you, only to drag them teasingly against a new, unmarked spot slightly lower.

You beg him to stop. You plead and you cry and you try to make him look at you. You regret it when he finally does. Garrett looks like a wolf that just dragged its snout out of a dead deer’s belly. Your blood is smeared all over his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Panting open-mouthed, you see it staining his teeth. He swipes his hand across his face, making his fingers red and wet. He licks them, one at a time. He moans at the taste, drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

“I’d let him give it another try, if I were you,” Virgilio says. “No venom in the first bite. If you don’t want to feel that in the morning, you’ll need a dose.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. It hurts whenever you breathe, or swallow, or your heart beats. You feel like you’ve been chewed up and spat back out, your neck raw and prickling. Garrett’s eyes are drawn to the slow ooze of blood from the bite he left behind and you see the moment he realizes what he’s done, how badly he’s hurt you. Eyes wide, swallowing hard, he tries to say something but never does. He looks at Virgilio but the other man looks at you, waiting for an answer.

You tremble, your hands clutching fistfuls of Garrett’s sweater. Shaking and reluctant, you touch Garrett’s face, resting your palm against his cheek. His eyes shut and he lets out a pleased sigh, turning to kiss your wrist. You flinch in anticipating terror when he licks and nips at your skin, but he doesn’t bite. Something about the gesture, the reverence he shows your wrist and your hammering pulse beneath the skin, feels important. Maybe it means something special to the nightbound. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.

“Make it stop hurting,” you beg him.

Garrett kisses your wrist again. He holds it against his cheek, eyes closed in bliss. Carefully, he moves you. Rests you against his other shoulder. He exposes the untouched side of your neck and you can’t stop the helpless, frightened tears that prick the corners of your eyes, expecting even more agony. He kisses the spot first. A chaste peck first, then longer, with tongue. You feel his fangs first, sharp as thorns. A dull pressure. A sharp pain.

And then, without warning, there’s ecstasy.

It starts in your neck. Everything he touches, everything his teeth rip and shred and tenderize, feels electric. The blood dripping down your shoulder feels like a caress. His hands are on your hips and he’s moving, rocking against you, gasping and breathless as he grinds the hardness in his jeans against your ass. Every sensation is razor-sharp and amplified. Everything that used to hurt is heavenly now. Garrett’s teeth come out of your neck with a wet, sucking sound and then he’s licking you, making love to the wound with his tongue, whispering sweet nothings and promises of always, forever, no matter what it takes.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I shouldn’t have lied. But you’re glad, too, right? This isn’t goodbye after all.”

You’ll be mad at him later, probably. You’ll scream and you’ll cry and you’ll find a door you can lock, anything to put some distance between the two of you. But it feels good now. Everything is perfect sweetness and heady delight. You curl into Garrett’s chest and he holds you, not like the way he used to but in a new, more desperate way, like you might disappear if he lets go. Virgilio says something about a mending poultice. Stopping the bleeding. Getting you settled at home. You don’t care. But even now, in this warmth and haze, part of you understands that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original

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